Jacob Was A Gift From The Gods.

I Stared Into Her Eyes, Wide Under The Thick Fringe Of Lashes, And Yearned For Sleep. Not For Oblivion, As I Had Before, Not To Escape Boredom, But Because I Wanted To *dream*. Maybe, If I Could Be Unconscious, If I Could Dream, I Could Live For A Few Hours In A World Where She And I Could Be Together. She Dreamed Of Me. I Wanted To Dream Of Her.

He’s Playing Every Bit As Hard As I Am, Only He Knows What He’s Doing And I Don’t. Don’t Blame Me Because He’s A Better Manipulator Than I Am — I Haven’t Been Around Long Enough To Learn All His Tricks.

I Just Know I'm Too Much Of A Wuss For Stephen King's Books. I'm Way Too Chicken To Read Horror.

No, I Had Never Intentionally Caused Anyone Physical Pain, But I Had Hurt Ian Deeply Enough Just By Hurting Myself. Human Lives Were So Impossibly Tangled. What A Mess.

As Long As You Like Me The Best. And You Think I’m Good-looking—sort Of. I’m Prepared To Be Annoyingly Persistent.