"People, I have discovered, are layers and layers of secrets. You believe you know them, that you understand them, but their motives are always hidden from you, buried in their own hearts. You will never know them, but sometimes you decide to trust them."
"I know my head isn’t screwed on straight. I want to leave, transfer, warp myself to another galaxy. I want to confess everything, hand over the guilt and mistake and anger to someone else. There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs. Even if I dump the memory, it will stay with me, staining me. My closet is a good thing, a quiet place that helps me hold these thoughts inside my head where no one can hear them."
"She never gives a straight answer, always hiding behind a curtain of vague words and round about phrases. She walks in circles, always just out of reach. They call her manipulative, evasive, always twisting what people say to suit her needs, but she’s not like that, not really. She just doesn’t know how not to speak in riddles, how not to build mazes and paradoxical labyrinths with every word she say, because it’s so ingrained into every fiber of her being. It’s a defense mechanism, really, more than anything. When people attack her, when they laugh and scoff at her, she withdraws within herself ans spits out sentences that seem to mean everything and nothing all at once. It’s a defense mechanism, because if they can’t find her behind the haziness she’s constructed around herself, they can’t touch her, can’t even hurt her, even if sometimes they’re right when they call her pretentious or false or deceitful. It’s hard to tell which started the other, if she’s like this because they pick apart at her or if they scratch at her until her heart bleeds because she makes mazes. her life is something of a web of intricacies just like her speech, but she doesn’t know how to do differently, doesn’t know how to stop."