You can't go back to how things were. How you thought they were. All you really have is...now..

Like driving along a bumpy road and losing control of the steering wheel, tossing you—just a tad—off the road. The wheels kick up some dirt, but you'….

How can you call it love when it hurt you so badly?" "It was love because it was worth it..

I didn't feel physically sick. But mentally. My mind was twisting in so many ways. (...) We once saw a documentary on migraines. One of the men inter….

I hope you're ready, because I'm about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. And if you're listening to these tapes….

And here he is again, yet things feel like they'll never be as easy between us as they once were..

That’s what i love about poetry. The more abstract, the better. The stuff were your not sure what the poets talking about. You may have an idea, but ….

And as I stood there in the hallway―alone―trying to understand what had just happened and why, I realized the truth: I wasn't worth an explanation―no….

Could be my soul mate / two kindred spirits / Maybe we're not / I guess we'll never / know.

If time was a string connecting all of your stories, that party would be the point where everything knots up. And that knot keeps growing and growing….

Personally, I never understood the power of having books written about your experience - whatever that experience may be - until I wrote one and star….

This time, for the first time, I saw the possibilities in giving up. I even found hope in it..

I left. When I should have stayed..

But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head..

My breathing begins to slow. The tension in my muscles starts to relax. Then, a click in the headphones. A slow breath of air. I open my eyes to brig….

If you're angry, you don't have to write a poem dealing with the cause of your anger. But it needs to be an angry poem. So go ahead... write one. I k….

I'm listening to someone give up. Someone I knew—someone I liked. I'm listening... but still, I'm too late..

I hate not knowing what to believe anymore. I hate not knowing what's real..

Don't give up on me now. I'm sorry. I guess that's an odd thing to say. Because isn't that what I'm doing? Giving up?.

What the hell happened to Pluto?!.

Yes, it feels great to plan your life when you believe everything can turn out fine. But what about when you're shown, again and again, how little co….