“I could fucking consume you”

“Grief should have been all-consuming. I hated myself that it wasn't. But sometimes I forgot. Jesus, how could I fucking forget? Sometimes I went for minutes without remembering my dad was dead, but that whole time it was regrouping so it could hit me all over again.”

“So does that mean if you won’t fuck me because I’m high, I could fuck you because you’re not?”

“I could fuck you or kill you and not care about either”

“… when you feel that kind of all-consuming need for someone, a person you’d do fucking anything for, no matter what? They’re in your fucking skin, in your soul, like the essence of who they are is imprinted on you so completely like the very air you breathe… That’s love.”

“Spite was the fuel to right all your wrongs. And like any fuel, it could consume you.”