“I think it takes an amazing amount of energy to convince oneself that the Forever Person isn't just around the corner. In the end I believe we never do convince ourselves. I know that I found it increasingly hard to maintain the pose of emotional self-sufficiency lying on my bed and sitting at my desk, watching the gulls cartwheeling in the clouds over the bridges, cradling myself in my own arms, breathing warm chocolate-and-vodka breath on a rose I had found on a street corner, trying to force it to bloom.”

“I believe in roses. And I believe in putting roses into a vase and sitting the vase on the table. I believe in getting lost and being found, I believe in going barefoot, and in laughter! My religion is to laugh at myself, whenever I can! I believe in the sunlight and in grey skies with big, beautiful clouds!”

“Travis ran his hand over the stubble on his scalp, shaking his head. “He didn’t get out,” he whispered. “He didn’t get out, Pidge.”My breath caught as I watched the soot on his cheeks streak with his tears. He fell to his knees and I fell with him.“Trent’s smart, Trav. He got out. He had to have found a different way,” I said, trying to convince myself as well.Travis collapsed into my lap, gripping my shirt with both fists. I held him. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I've been looking in the mirror for so long.That I've come to believe my souls on the other side.Oh the little pieces falling, shatter.Shards of me,To sharp to put back together.To small to matter,But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces.If I try to touch her,And I bleed,I bleed,And I breathe,I breathe no more. Take a breath and I try to draw from my spirits well.Yet again you refuse to drink like a stubborn child.Lie to me,Convince me that I've been sick forever.And all of this,Will make sense when I get better.I know the difference,Between myself and my reflection.I just can't help but to wonder,Which of us do you love.So I bleed,I bleed,And I breathe,I breathe now...Bleed,I bleed,And I breathe,I breathe,I breathe-I breathe no more.”

“How many times have I failed before? How many times have I stood here like this, in front of my own image, in front of my own person, trying to convince him not to be scared, to go on, to get out of this rut? How many times before I finally convince myself, how many private, erasable deaths will I need to die, how may self-murders is it going to take, how many times will I have to destroy myself before I learn, before I understand?”

“I want and need to like myself again; I have to convince myself that I’m capable of taking my own decision.”