“Honestly, I don’t quite know how we got to this point. I hated him on sight. I did this only for the money. I thought he was a fucked up mess. I still think he’s a fucked up mess. But so am I. And he’s so beautiful, so thoughtful, so vulnerable. We can be a mess together. I want to heal him. I know I can heal him.”

“I loved someone so much that I broke up with him because I didn't want to get hurt. Then when he proved he loved me back, I broke up with him again. I'm a fucking mess, but so are you. Most of us are.”

“My mind was a jumble, a mixed-up mess of hurt and want, but I didn’t know how to sort out the crazy rush of thoughts, and frankly, I didn’t want to. I was burning for him, so I let my body lead me on.”

“So I fight. I fight the only way I know, with thinking of Ky, even thought the pain of missing him is so strong I can hardly stand it... I think of him, I think of him, I think of him.”

“I didn’t know what I thought, other than that nothing was easy anymore and no matter what I did, things got messed up.”

“What a mess we are, I thought. But this is usually where any hope of improvement begins, acknowledging the mess. When I am well, I know not to mess with mess right away; I try to let silence and time work their magic. [p. 100]”