“What I knew, adored, and fell for was a fantasy. He did not exist in human terms.”

“…I felt each beat slowing as his breathe fell away from my world. “You’re going to be okay” I lied, as blood spilled painting my fingers crimson. He stared blankly gasping for breath. My fingers never worked the same after that day. They became wild, fierce---unruly. And heart? I don’t know where heart is; I think he still has her.”

“Writer? A complimentary term to conceal one’s insanities.”

“I pull away, you pull me back, you grab my hand and wrap me around. What you did not know is—– my heart is my hand.”

“You’ll lie again, you’ll do it again. Friends, not friends, friends, not friends, I’m on your dime, I’m on your time, and I don’t exist where there is a YOU.”

“There’s nothing worse than writing. There’s nothing better than writing. It’s like the man you hate to love, love to hate and never really come to terms with any of the feelings.”

“What had I done? Where was my fun? I wanted play, I wanted sun, he was the opposite —I called him Zum because he’s an un-fun, the sort of mean-fun bully on the playground-fun. Mean Mr. Zum.This was madness, this was badness this was sadness this was too much un-fun-ness.”