Well, I already know what happened to my face", I say. "I was there. Sort of

I started writing because I decided I was too old to play pretend in the backyard. Then I found that I could create those imaginary worlds on the page.

I forget that he is another person; instead it feels like he is another part of me, just as essential as a heart or an eye or an arm.

All I want to say is that when you stop being delusional and start feeling desperate because you're too inept to figure this out on your own, you know who to come to.

Don't confuse your grief with guilt.

I could never hurt him enough to make his betrayal stop hurting. And it hurts, in every part of my body.

I slowly realized that perfectionism just not that important. What's more important is to try to love the people around you. Whatever that means at a particular time is the best you can do.