If you start looking up, they start asking questions.

My life is an issue in my life.

I think we learn the truth about ourselves by telling it to someone else.

We got up and smiled at each other. His eyes were lovely, and I was reminded of a line in book I read once, that God exists in the spaces between people.

Well, at least I can spare myself the ordeal of a whole battery of personality tests. My personality is poor; that much is clear.

The situation was a mess. It’s way easier when you have someone to blame. We want a victim and a villain and a simple story and for everyone to play their role.

It must be amazing to end each day consumed with something other than disappointment at yourself and the world.

I don’t care about this stuff. I’m not even sure I’m a girl. I’m an eye in the sky. I am detached. I’m an idiot.

The pieces don’t fit perfectly together and don’t tell the whole story. Only the viewer can say if I succeeded.

When you tell a story, you shape the truth.