Be careful what you wish for;
Not all lost things should be found.

So let’s raise our glass to the accident season,
To the river beneath us where we sink our souls,
To the bruises and secrets, to the ghosts in the ceiling,
One more drink for the watery road.

Accidents happen. Our bones shatter, our skin splits, our hearts break. We burn, we drown, we stay alive.

He who does not really feel himself lost, is lost without remission; that is to say, he never finds himself, never comes up against his own reality.

"For some of us I think its about finding a person to call home rather than a place to call home.

I’m so used to planning for guys, dressing and undressing for them and trying to morph myself into their dream girl. I’m so used to it that I don’t really know where that girl ends and the real me begins. I suppose what it comes down to is confidence. I’m confident in that girl, the one who emerges from my walk-in wearing lingerie when I’m done getting ready. But at Faye’s house, I’m not going to be that girl. I’m going to be me.
Whoever that is anymore.