His hands skim my bare arms. “Just bounce a little when you walk,” he says, kissing my forehead, “and pretend you’re afraid of their guns” —another kiss between my eyebrows— “and act like the shrinking violet you could never be ”—a kiss on my cheek— “and you’ll be fine.

Leave her out of this" "Why? Because you're doing her? Oh wait, I forgot. Stiffs don't do that sort of thing

Let the guilt teach you how to behave next time.

And sometimes, if you want the truth, you have to demand it.

I feel acutely aware of how young I am. In a way that is good. It's productive. It makes me realise that I should be growing as a writer and a person.

I laugh, and it's laughter, not light, that casts out the darkness building within me, that reminds me I am still alive, even in this strange place where everything I've ever known is coming apart.

Stiff. That’s why you’re strong, get it? - Tobias Eaton