So what do I wish for? Something I'm not sure I want? Someone I'm not sure I need? Or someone I know I can't have?

You ought to stop listening to stereotypes and start forming your own opinions.

Because that's the thing about depression. When I feel it deeply, I don't want to let it go. It becomes a comfort. I want to cloak myself under its heavy weight and breathe it into my lunges. I want to nurture it, grow it, cultivate it. It's mine. I want to check out with it, drift asleep wrapped in its arms and not wake up for a long, long time.

Why is it that the right people never wind up together? Why are people so afraid to leave a relationship, even if they know it's a bad one?

I pull back, gasping for breath. Reeling. His breath is ragged, and I place my hands on his cheeks to steady him. "Is this okay?" I whisper. "Are you okay?" His reply is anguished. Honest. "I love you."

Boys turns girls into such idiots.

I'm saying I'm in love with you! I've been in love with you this whole bleeding year!