And I felt comfort. Finally. All I'd wanted for so long was for someone to explain everything that had happened to me in this same way. To label it neatly on a page: this leads to this leads to this. I knew, deep down, it was more complicated than that, but watching Jason, I was hopeful. He took the mess that was Macbeth and fixed it, and I had to wonder if he might, in some small way, be able to do the same for me. So I moved myself closer to him, and I'd been there ever since.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda. It's so easy in the past tense.

But for now, I just sat there on the bed and listened to my song. The one that had been written for me by a man who knew me not at all, now sung by the one who knew me best.

If you could just be nice, then you wouldn't have to worry about arguments at all. but being nice wasn't as easy as it seemed, especially when the rest of the world could be so mean.

Anyone can hide. Facing up to things, working through them, that's what makes you strong.

My agent is so totally honest, which is just what every writer needs. She won't let me sell a crappy book, even if I want to.

Because this is what happens when you try to run from the past. It just doesn’t catch up, it overtakes … blotting out the future.