Yesterday he told me he thought I would have to pretend to be weak, but he was wrong. I am weak already. I brace myself against the wall and press my forehead to my hands. It’s difficult to take deep breaths, so I take short, shallow ones. I can’t let this happen. They attacked me to make me feel weak. I can pretend they succeeded to protect myself, but I can’t let it become true.

The goal of my life isn't just... to be happy. 'Wouldn't it be easier if it was, though?

It's Not sacrifice if it's someone else's life you're giving away, it's just evil.

You don’t always have to smack people in the face with how strong you are

I pause a second. He doesn't look at me the way Will, Christina, and Al sometimes do - like I am too small and too weak to be of any use, and they pity me for it.

I'm sick of doing bad things and liking it and then wondering what's wrong with me. I want it to be over. I want to start again.

In that moment I know exactly what I want; I want to peel away all the layers of clothing between us, strip away everything that separates us, the past and the present and the future.