Sometimes,” he says, sliding his arm across my shoulders, “people just want to be happy, even if it’s not real.

Nothing else is all right.” His whisper tickles my cheek. “But we are.

I would rather be dead than empty

What makes you different, makes you dangerous.

I know some things--I know that I'm not alone, that I have friends, that I'm in love. I know that I don't want to die, and for me that's something--more than I could have said a few weeks ago.

If they told us what to believe, and we didn't come to it on our own, is it still true?

And I provide much- needed eye candy.