Even though I'm seventeen, I guess I still thought this would always be true - that there would always be that lost-and-found, and not the lost-and-still-lost that I am now trapped inside.

“We are the time. We are the breathing. We are the air.”

“And who am I to blow against the wind?”

“I don't have the heart to tell him that's the wrong way to think about the worl…”

“I am so used to hints and mixed messages, saying things that might mean what th…”