I know what's going on. You have everyone fooled, but you don't fool me.

(laughter as a last defense)

Why are you fighting?

Who are we fighting and what are we fighting for - I am unfortunately a Grangerford.

I would like to have the time to learn about the coloured pencils. I would like to have time to read the thousand-page anthology. I would like to be a lot of things (I can’t even master the beginning of one).

“Just call me angel of the morning, just touch my cheek before you leave me”

As selfish as she is. (that was way out of line) 

You shouldn’t always say what you’re thinking I suppose.

Your stupidity is rather impressive.

I should have known we weren’t right for each other, because of the wrong types of music (I tried to say that similar taste doesn’t determine closeness of the souls, but I think I must have been kidding myself)

I should like to be a 12 year old boy, in at least some way.

Burning plastic army men.

All I ever notice now is how skinny everyone is. How defined their chins are.

This might be home.

Angela. The twenty-two year old women who is a grown-up, but is trying (trying her hardest) to be a kid, so that she’ll be good enough for Peter Pan when he comes back (he will come back).

           - Innocence shouldn’t take so much effort.

I’m writing in Times New Roman because that’s what grown-ups do. 

Sometimes I like to reread the things you’ve said, although it makes me cry.

“... very practical!”

Would five-year old me be impressed? I’m not sure.

To-do lists

Antarctica.