It was like discovering that some part of you wasn't yours at all. And it made me wonder what else I couldn't claim.

call it crazy, or just chicken salad. But within reason, or without it i was in it too.

There's something nice about the silence of a car ride in the dark, going home. When you were tired of the radio and conversation, and it was okay to just be alone with your thoughts and the road ahead. If you're that comfortable with someone, you don't have to talk.

It was so easy to disown what you couldn't recognize, to keep yourself apart from things that were foreign and unsettling. The only person you can be sure to control, always, is yourself. Which is a lot to be sure of, but at the same time, not enough.

I've found in my own life that if my writing isn't going well, not much else will. It is the one constant, the key to everything else.

Once, I was easy. Now, I was choosy. See? Big difference.

It wasn’t so much that I was positive. I just wasn’t fully subscribing to such a negative way of thinking anymore.