“I feel I could kill. I feel that I might like it. And I know that this should scare me. But it doesn't. It excites me. I am in Plato's cave, watching the shadows and fraught with the desire to hunt what casts them.”

“I feel like, God expects me to be human. I feel like, God likes me just the way I am: broken and empty and bruised. I feel like, God doesn't look at me and wish that I were something else, because He likes me just this way. I feel like, God doesn't want me to close my eyes and pray for Him to make me holy or for Him to make me pure; because He made me human. I feel like, God already knows I'm human...it is I who needs to learn that.”

“Because if I let myself feel the pain and the anger, I think it might kill me. Or I might kill someone else. I know it's wrong to feel that way about God and I know its's wrong to not feel anything. I hate it. I don't hate God. I hate not loving Him.”

“She made me feel better than I have ever felt, better than I imagined I could feel, and it scared me, it scared me to the point of paralysis.”

“I feel vulnerable. I I try to mask my emotions, but I feel like everyone knows what I’m thinking and feeling, and I don’t like it. I don’t like being an open book. I feel like I’m up on the stage, pouring my heart out to him, and it scares the hell out of me.”

“I feel safe. I feel protected. I feel relief. I feel scared. I feel vulnerable. I feel desire. I feel… Everything.”