That’s the problem with all of this. No matter how hard I try, I can’t make it perfect. I can’t keep it in a bottle, can’t ignore reality. Chemicals are involved, the kind scientists try to synthesize and put into pill form, and they’re making tremendous advances every day. They’re winning the war against love. It’s probably inevitable now. There are only two ways to see the world: either no one and nothing is connected to anything, or we are all a random series of carbon molecules connected to each other. Tell me if there’s room for love in either of those scenarios.

He hugged her tight, mixing their tears to be bottled and fermented, so they could be drunk on each other when this was all over.

It takes knowledge to know something. It takes guts to do what you know.

And I could write it better than you ever felt it.

Just a tiny red sliver remains in the battery icon. I wish humans came with the same kind of indicator . . . it would make things much easier. You would know how to deal with every person on the planet, and I’d always be in the red.

Always bet on yourself, no matter what the odds are. It means more to be in the race than watching the victory lap from the stands.

He is the straight to video sequel to your summer hit movie. He is the verse to that song on the radio you have to hum cause you can’t remember the words. You couldn’t break this kid’s heart, he is so far beyond that. This is the kind of kid who blew out the candles on hope all alone for too many birthdays to remember. And no one has ever fallen in love with anyone with a smile that’s dripping with “please die”.