People like Josh Bennett and I don’t get perfect. Most of the time, we don’t even get remotely tolerable. And that’s why it scares me. Because, even if there was such a thing to begin...

It doesn’t matter if you do everything right, if you dress the right way and act the right way and follow all the rules, because evil will find you anyway. Evil’s resourceful that way.

Your name could mean to excel and you could be useless and crap at everything. You can put a name on anything, call it whatever you want, doesn’t make it real. Doesn’t make it true.

Where did you go?” His voice drops just slightly and loses even the suggestion of a smile.He’s watching me like he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask the question, and he’s not even sure he...

If I’m going to be rejected, I’d like it to come complete with humiliation.

I didn’t belong in this world anymore. It’s not that I wanted to be dead, I just felt like I should be.

I decline the coffee. I don’t drink it, because no matter how much sugar I put into it, it still tastes like ass-water to me. Maybe it’s because my taste buds are so desensitized to...

People like to say love is unconditional, but it’s not, and even if it was unconditional, it’s still never free. There’s always an expectation attached. They always want something in return. Like they want you...

But you can only go so long being angry before you learn to hate.

Maybe I don’t need to save her forever. Maybe I can just save her right now, in this moment, and if I can do that, maybe it will save me and maybe that can be...

She’s grateful for what she was born with. She should be. It’s an awesome face, a perfect face, an ethereal face. The kind people write songs and poems and suicide notes about. It’s that exotic...

People who have never been through any sort of shit always assume that they know how you should react to having your life destroyed. And the people who have been through shit think you’re suppose...

I wish I could have saved you,” he says finally. And this is what it always comes back to. Salvation. Him saving me. Me saving him. Impossibilities, because there is no such thing, and it’s...

I hate my left hand. I hate to look at it. I hate it when it stutters and trembles and reminds me that my identity is gone. But I look at it anyway; because it...

My jealousy is a living thing. Shifting, changing, growing. Like my rage and my mother’s regret.

His hands are miracles. I can watch them for hours, transforming wood into something it never dreamed of being.

Every normal family is one tragedy away from complete implosion.

I’d watch her, amazed at just how much a person could accomplish fueled by tea and regret.

Every day you save me.

My phone is on my bed, whispering in my ear like a bottle of scotch to a recovering alcoholic, while the rain continues cackling at me through my window

I live in a world without magic or miracles. A place where there are no clairvoyants of shapeshifters, no angels or superhuman boys to save you. A place where people die and music disintegrates and...

Do real boys actually call girls baby? I don’t have enough experience to know. I do know that if a guy ever called me baby, I’d probably laugh in his face. Or choke him.

Plus, once he did the requisite double-take and recognized me, he’d probably beat the crap out of any guy who looked at me in all my Snow White meets Frederick’s of Hollywood glory.

I’m tired of being responsible for other people’s misery. I can’t even put up with my own.

I will never forget what you did to me. I will never forgive it. I will never stop mourning what you stole from me. But I realize now I can’t steal it back and I’m...