I would give anything to escape myself, Flynn thought, just for a day, just for a minute even. Just to know what it was like to think differently, to feel differently, and to not be me.

The words fire from my mouth like bullets, ricocheting off the walls before I can even register what I'm saying.

I've never seen anyone sleep with their head hanging off the back of a wooden chair before - was the couch not comfortable enough for you?

I am overcome by a feeling of complete detachment. I am a mere object to these people. I am barely human any more.

Trying to describe my life and feelings to you is like trying to describe coulours to the blind, or music to the deaf. It's simply not possible.

He is my soul mate, my fresh air, the reason I look forward to getting up every morning.

This is the definition of happiness: a whole day stretching out ahead of me, beautiful in its emptiness and simplicity.