“I felt like you could open a door in my hollow, tin chest--just flip it open, easy--and see my heart throbbing, raw and bloody and sore. You could even reach in and squish it if you wanted to. I didn't want anyone getting close enough to open that door and see that mess (250-251).”

“A brick could be used to prop open the door to my heart. But you might not want to leave the Love Door open, because my ex just shit all in there.
”

“I want, I want, I want... At this point I'm just a mass of seething wants, but what I want I'm not really sure of. (Like going to the fridge, and opening it, letting all the cold air out...and not knowing what it is you want to eat. You stand with the door open hoping that something will you inspire you.) I'm standing with the door open at the fridge of life, and I want.”

“She opened my closet door just the tiniest crack. So I could breathe.”

“I look into his sorrowless eyes and a door in my heart blows open. And when we kiss, i see that on the other side of that door is sky.”

“Insomnia’s different,” I said. It was hard to explain this to people. “You know the light that comes on when you open the refrigerator door? Just imagine it stays on all the time, even after you close the door. That’s what it’s like in my head. The light stays on.”