When someone says, “Everything happens for a reason,” they’re trying to convince you there’s a pattern for your life, and that if you pay close attention, it’s possible to decipher it.

Having choices is the problem. Everything would be easier if someone told me what to do: push the button, stop seeing Marcus, get over Jesse. The problem with choices is that I usually make the wrong ones.

Because sometimes it’s easier to start over with a clean slate than to drag the baggage of your past with you wherever you go.

Sometimes I wish I’d find a zipper on the back of my head so I could unzip my skin and find the real me underneath.

I don’t even remember what was so funny; I only remember thinking I’d suffocate before I stopped laughing.

She’s the gristle stuck between Time’s teeth, and I love her for it.

We’ve all got things about ourselves we hate and these dark places inside of us we’re terrified to show people. We live in constant fear that someone is going to discover the rotting corpses we keep buried in those dark places, and that when they do, they’ll despise us for them.

Don’t get so focused on where you’re going that you forget the people you’re travelling with. There’s no point reaching a destination if you arrive alone.

The sound in my ears narrowed until all I could hear was that psychotic cackle. I felt something inside me break in that moment. It wasn’t just what had happened that day; it was as if all the preceding days, all the hate I’d been hoarding and the guilt I’d buried, erupted, breaking my ability to contain them any longer.

No doesn’t mean to Marcus what it means to those without money and a car.