“My mind/a twist of clutter/ as i lie in bed imagining my life/ I watch the shadows on the ceiling./Memories sail across my eyes. / I need courage to see them. / I fight with myself/But then I close my eyes to the twilight/ And release myself to sleep.The scars you can't see are the hardest to heal.I'd rather be lucky than good. Good is just so overrated. Bad girls have the most fun.A fool empties his head every time he opens his mouth”

“Unhappy? I was lucky. So, so lucky. And I couldn’t see it.” His eyes met hers. “I love you,” he said. “And you make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And now that I know what it’s like to be someone else—to lose myself—I want my life back. My family. You. All of it.” His eyes darkened. “I want it back.”

“Maybe age is kinder to us than we think. With my bad eyes, I can't see how bad I look, and with my rotten memory, I have a good excuse for getting out of a lot of stuff.”

“I forced myself to keep my eyes open so I could memorize every curve of her face. I wanted the image burned so deeply in my memory that when I closed my eyes to sleep at night, she would be the last thing I saw and the first person on my mind when I woke.”

“With my eyes closed and my memories open, I could almost feel his hands and mouth on my skin.”

“I closed my eyes and resigned myself to the fact that my boyfriend was a pervert. He was lucky he was so cute.”