A Lot Of You Cared, Just Not

‎because If I Hadn't Been So Afraid Of Everyone Else, I Might Have Told Hannah That Someone Cared. And Hannah Might Still Be Alive.

I Take A Slow Sip Of Lukewarm Coffee, Reopen The Book, And Read The Words Scribbled In Red Ink Near The Top: Everyone Needs An Olly-olly-oxen-free.

You Can Hear Rumors. But You Can't Know Them.

When You Write A Book For Publication, You're Writing It For Other People To Read.

I Hate Not Knowing What To Believe Anymore. I Hate Not Knowing What's Real.