When you’re in a town like this all covered with smoke, you forget that there’s a world outside. Nothing amazing happens here. And you get used to that, used to a world where everything is ordinary. Every day we spend here is like a whole lifetime of dying slowly.
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The worst part of it, is when you’re feeling it’s slipping away, right out of your grasp, and there’s nothing you can do, or maybe there is, but you don’t know what. So, you just do nothing or the wrong thing.

I guess my life hasn’t always been happy, or easy, or exactly what I want. At a certain point, I just have to try not to think too much about certain things, or else they’ll break my heart.
There’s a reason I said I’d be happy alone. It wasn’t because I thought I’d be happy alone. It was because I thought if I loved someone and then it fell apart, I might not make it. It’s easier to be alone, because what if you learn that you need love and you don’t have it? What if you like it and lean on it? What if you shape your life around it and then it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It’s like dying. The only difference is death ends. This? It could go on forever.

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