“I didn’t say anything. Greta always knew how to make me lose my words.”

“He knew how useless words could be. How even when you wanted more than anything just to hear someone say they understood, it didn’t make you feel better. Not really.”

“Wasn’t that kind of the basis of passion? I didn’t know that either. The only thing I knew for sure was that this kiss had been a lot like the last one. Nice, but it didn’t blow me away. My heart sank. There was something wrong with me. Everyone was always going on about how socially inept I was. Did it extend to romance as well? Was I so cold that I’d spend my life never feeling anything?”

“Writing it downis the way I make it real,the way I find my wayinto what it is I feel.The words on paper orcomputer screentell me more thanwhat I knew beforeI wrote them,help me rememberwhat I'm afraidI'll forget,let me keepwhat I don't wantto lose,say to me:Youwerehere.”

“I whisper every word she needs to hear and I need to say. I tell her how beautiful she is. I tell her she amazes me. I make sure she knows she is the most precious person in the world to me. I make sure she understands what losing her means to me and how impossible it is to imagine my life without her.”

“At first I was afraid that I would be left defenseless, that I would babble aloud the things I've always been terrified of saying. Instead, opium made me realize that I could say anything I liked without losing my identity.”