“You could just tell when a person belonged somewhere. That is something you can't fake, no matter how hard you try”

“I mean, it's impossible to fake anything if you've already seen the other person in a way they'd never choose for you to. You can't go back from that.”

“It was like when you ripped a piece of paper into two: no matter how you tried, the seams never fit exactly right again.”

“This is personal, she'd said. Real. This moment was too, even if you couldn't see it at first glance. It was fake on the outside, but so true within. You only had to look, really look to tell.”

“There's just something obvious about emptiness, even when you try to convince yourself otherwise. ”

“You know, when you think about it, that’s kind of a weird thing. I mean it’s meant to be sympathetic, right? But it’s kind of not. Like you’re telling the person there’s nothing unique about what they’re sayingI considered this as a couple of kids on Rollerblades whizzed past, hockey sticks over their shoulders. “Yeah,” I said, finally, “but you could also look at it the other way. Like no matter how bad things are for you, I can still relate.”

“How ballsy it was to just assume you know, with one glance, the things another person could live without. As if it was the same for everyone, that simple.”