It's such a silly little thing, the heart.

I like you a lot. Because you’re funny and smart and because you seem to like me. I know that’s not a good reason, but I can’t help it; if a girl likes me I tend to like her back [...] I like you for all this stuff but I also kind of like you for the cuts on your face—

I don't owe people anything, and I don't have to talk to them any more than I feel I need to.

I like how you don't hide your problems like everyone else, and I don't have to hide mine when I'm around you.

And that was the closest I've ever come to an epiphany.

Of course I wasn't abused. If I were; things would be so simple. I'd have a reason to for being in a shrinks office. I'd have a justification and something to work on. The world wasn't going to give me something that tidy.

Nobody had told me I was common.