“I hate feeling so weak and vulnerable.I hate that I miss him.I hate that I am alone, and I always was.I hate that I made him into a superhero, he was not.I hate that he doesn't want to kiss me.I hate that every time I cry over one boy it's like crying over all of them again.”

“Where is my chance to be somebody's Peter Van Houten?' He hit the steering wheel weakly, the car honking as he cried. He leaned his head back, looking up. 'I hate myself I hate myself I hate this I hate this I disgust myself I hate it I hate it I hate it just let me fucking die.”

“I just miss him, that's all." I feel tears welling again. "I hate that we don't play cards anymore. I hate waking up alone.”

“I hated him. I hated them all. They made me hate myself even more than I already did.”

“I just... I just miss him. And hate being so alone. Does he miss me? He must”

“I should hate to be a regular girl with a sugar-plum voice. I should hate to have swan-like lashes, and a thick, sooty neck. I sound as though I’m joking, I know, but I should truly hate to be like Leanne, so charming and ordinary and stuffed with clichéd feelings. I’m glad I’m the ice maiden. Who wants to be crying over every stray dog? Not I. Scratch my surface and what do you see? More surface.”