“I get a kick out of being an outsider constantly. It allows me to be creative. I don't like anything in the mainstream and they don't like me.”

“I would have done anything for him. But these days, I don't want to do anything. I don't want to get drunk or go to a wild party or make out with random boys-not that I've ever wanted to. I don't want to watch chick flicks or eat ice cream or get a haircut or buy out half of the mall. I don't want cold, cruel revenge. I don't want to see him suffer when karma catches up with him and kick his ass. I don't even want to talk to him right now, simply because it would be awkward and pathetic and I wouldn't know what to say to him. Yes, there is self-control, preventing me from being stupid and acting like a desperate doofus in the manner most heartbroken people do. But there is also a weary numbness threatening to consume every inch of me: Isn't there a way for me to skip straight to the part where I'm fine again?”

“Life is like a trumpet - if you don't put anything into it, you don't get anything out of it.”

“On the outside, I may appear to be tough, but on the inside I'm vulnerable, just like a lot of people. I block out the part of me that allows me to feel. I numb myself using internal Novocain. People who feel always get hurt.”

“People that are lazy don't get anything accomplished. It's People like me that are reliable.”

“Don't look at me like I've kicked a baby pegasus into the street.”