“I would borrow the microphone and stuff it down the front of my pants, examining myself from every angle in the mirror”

“I decided to lock myself in. A forced segregation. Sabbatical. A retreat into myself. My selves. Play hide and go seek in the looking-glass. The mirror angled at the foot of my bed. Twisted reflections bouncing off into infinity. Obsessed with my image, the myriad of distored figurines who danced in front of me in rapid succession, every feature exaggerated, every slight imperfection a new delicacy.”

“I borrowed this from Kyle. My other shirt was pretty filthy." "Wow, you're wearing each other's clothes now. That's, like, best friend stuff.""Feeling left out?" said Kyle. "I suppose you want to borrow a black T-shirt too.""As long as everyone's wearing their own pants." "I see have come in on a fascinating moment in the conversation." Eric poked his head through the curtain.”

“I looked in my mirror and saw, not myself, but every place I'd never been.”

“When I was little I would always stand in front of a mirror and cross my eyes. Then my mother would come in and say, "Stop that, nothing will ever come of it!”

“I felt myself begin to slide down into that recognizable abyss, down and down, where I knew it would be cold and dark, but which had become more familiar to me than my face in the mirror. I knew I should instead be grateful for this time with my two best friends, for having laughed, but I let myself slide anyway. And hoped someone would pull me back up.”