You can widen the feet of a compass, but they are still attached at the top; you can spin them away from each other, but you always wind up where you started.
It was nice not having to be the one in control, for a little while. It was nice to be the one who was protected, instead of the one who’d been protecting eveyone else.
Like Connor, Alex protected me -and he was the only person I let close enough to do it. Like Connor, Alex could finish my sentences before I did. But unlike Connor, for whom I had ultimately come too late, I was just in time to take care of Alex.
No one gets to start where they left off; it just doesn’t work that way.
There are some things, I think, you’re btter off not remembering.
Not everyone understands how you can spin two lassos at the same time, one of hope and one of grief.
In this new place we’ve found, sometimes there aren’t words, because the truth can be even more difficult than the lies.
Sometimes it made her want to put her fist through glass; other times, it made her cry a river.
It is strange to think that we might have crossed paths, and still not have known what we were missing.
It’s like the psychiatrists themselves are buying into that stupid belief that therapy is something to hide.
What being home-schooled has taught me, more than anything, is what a waste of a life high school is.
Logical thinking keeps you from wasting time worrying, or hoping. It prevents disappointment. Imagination, on the other hand, only gets you hyped up over things that will never realistically happen.
We make messes of our lives, but every now and then, we manage to do something that’s exactly right. The challenge is figuring out which is which.
Once the world was pulled out from beneath your feet, did you ever get to stand on firm ground again?
What’s the difference between spending your life trying to be invisible, or pretending to be the person you think everyone wants you to be? Either way, you’re faking.
Or. I hate that word. It’s two letters long and stuffed to the gills with reasonable doubt.
There was a difference between people looking at you because they wanted to be like you, and people looking at you because your misfortune brought them one rung higher.
Why do some memories bleed out of nowhere and others stay locked behind doors?
For someone who can’t remember very much, there seems to be a lot I can’t forget.
Lies were only as strong as the suckers that believed them.