"A piece of me is gone,"she told me once while we were bra shopping. "I think we're made up of all these different pieces and every time someone goes, you're left with less of yourself."
"I can't believe I said it out loud. The truth doesn't set you free, you know. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed and defenseless and red in the face and horrified and petrified and vulnerable. But free? I don't feel free. I feel like shit."
"It's like you have a plan and someone comes along and makes you want to change it all, but you still like your first plan, no matter how fantastic the second one makes you feel."