In some worlds, I’m longing to start living.
In most others, I’m already living without meaning to.
There is nothing sadder than the tragedy of someone living in their past and getting others to live it with them.
It’s always hard to say goodbye — even to the most terrible version of ourselves.
After all, it’s the only reliable thing in the whole world:
The comfort of knowing that we will be just as menacing as our enemy and just as quiet as a sleeping friend.