“I can’t be fixed.”“You’re committed to being broken forever?”“Goddamit, Colton. Why are you doing this? You don’t know me.”“I want to.” It’s the answer to both of her statements.”

“You can't hold it in forever," Colton said.”

“I hold her. I don’t tell her it’s okay.“Be mad,” I say. “Be hurt. Be broken. Cry.”

“I can tell you what I see. I can tell you what I know about you. I can tell you how I feel. I can’t show you what you really are. But arguing with you won’t accomplish anything. I think we’ve both had our share of people trying to fix us. It doesn’t work. We can only fix ourselves. Let ourselves heal.”

“She still blames herself. I always knew she did, and hoped time would cure her of that, but I can see, without having even spoken to her, that she still carries the weight. There’s darkness in this girl now. I almost don’t want to get involved. She’ll hurt me. I know this. I can see it, feel it coming. She’s got so much pain, so many cracks and shards and jags in her soul, and I’m going to get cut by her if I’m not careful. I can’t fix her. I know this, too. I’m not going to try. I’ve had too many goody-goody girls hook up with me, thinking they can fix me.”

“How do you compete with a ghost, Colton?" I whisper the question into a long silence.He shrugs. "I don't know. You don't. You just understand that there's a part of you that you can't give away, because it belongs to a dead person. I don't know.”

“Moments like this, with Colton? They make it all bearable. He doesn't fix me, doesn't heal me. He just makes life worthwhile. He helps me remember to breathe.”