“The great thing about fiction is that you can start off by telling the truth, then start making stuff up like crazy whenever you feel like it. ”

“What is it about him that makes you, like, totally lose your shit?”

“My mother, of course, had a different opinion. 'They're driving me crazy!' she said, swatting at them with her beige Coach handbag. 'How can you tell?' my dad asked. 'Between your menopause craziness and your turning fifty craziness and everything else?''Forty-eight!' my mom cried. Dad groaned. 'Have you forgotten who you're lying to?”

“You, yes, you, linger inside my heartThe same you who stopped us before we could start.”

“I know it makes sense for me and him to just break up now and just live our seperate lives and not have to worry about missing each other all the time. But when I think about that, I get sick. Physically sick. Like I seriously throw up. I need to be with him, even if I can’t, like, be with him.”

“The tales we tell ourselves about ourselves makes us who we are.”

“...he makes me feel out of control and out of my head. He is exhilarating and terrifying. I see and feel him everywhere, and I'm always grasping for equilibrium even when he's not there... I feel like I'm always falling in love, falling and falling and falling.”