“Yet, ironically, it is her very wretchedness that makes me pity her so. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what to do!”

“She seemed dressed in all of me, stretched across my shame.All the torment and the pain leaked through and covered me.I'd do anything to have her to myself.Just to have her for myselfNow I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do when she makes me sane.She is everything to me.The unrequited dreamA song that no one sings.The unattainable, Shes a myth that I have to believe inAll I need to make it real is one more reasonI don't know what to do, I don't know what to do when she makes me sad.”

“Look, I don't know what to do yet. I just knew that's what you wanted," he says eyeing her mussed appearance."That's not what I wanted.""If it wasn't, you wouldn't have let me do it," he told her simply."I wanted answers.""And I don't have any.”

“What will bring me home? What will make me stay, stay? Well I don't know, I don't know.”

“Something really is wrong with me. And I don't know what it is.”

“I don't even know her yet..but if she could see me right now, I'd want her to know that I love her”