I never had a connection like that to anyone, where every day you think about what you’ll tell them and you wonder what they’re doing, and you know they’re wondering what you’re doing.

I wonder how you're supposed to know the exact moment when there's no more hope.

It's just so out of control. Life, I mean. The way it flies off in all these different directions without your permission.

I looked at my hand resting on the shelf of the prop cabinet, thinking of the scars that were there whether anyone could see them or not.

What brings two people together anyway?

Sometimes you should have something you don't need but that you want.

It's as if once you hit high school, you're programmed, like a robot, to be an asshole to your parents.