I have this idea that the reason we have dreams is that we're thinking about things that we don't know we're thinking about-and those things, well, they sneak out of us in our dreams. Maybe we're like tires with too much air in them. The air has to leak out. That's what dreams are.

I wonder if he’d been as beautiful as Dante. And I wondered why I thought that.

I guess I didn't have it so bad.Maybe everybody didn't love me,but i wasn't one of those kids that everyone hated,either.I was good in a fight.So people left me alone.i was almost invisible.i think i liked it that way.And then Dante came along.

I was fifteen.I was bored.I was miserable.

One summer night I fell asleep hoping the world would be different when I woke. In the morning, when I opened my eyes, the world was the same.

I wanted to close my eyes and let the silence swallow me whole.

I thought it might be a great thing to be the air. I could be something and nothing all at the same time. I could be necessary and also invisible. Everyone would need me and no one would be able to see me.

I wasn't big on family gatherings. Too many intimate strangers. I smiled a lot, but really I never knew what to say.

Being on the verge of seventeen could be harsh and painful and confusing. Being on the verge of seventeen really suck.