If that’s the case, I understand why emotions are hard for you. You’ve numbed yourself to make room for the grief you carry.

I gave up drinking before my twentieth birthday. I haven’t touched the stuff since. And I’ve discovered that not everyone who does horrible things is a horrible person.

See, you’ve got to understand, son. There’s two types of guys in this world. There’s guys . . . who think they’re in control, and guys like us who live in the moment. Who accept life as it is.

It’s like you’re always living in your head. . . . Relax and appreciate your surroundings a little.

I lost someone close to me once . . . Taught me to live in the moment. Life is short, you know?

It feels like I’m stuck in one spot. It’s been this way for a long time. I know you understand, but now you’re moving on without me. And I—I’m not ready to be alone.

It’s like everyone has their own little recipe for happiness, but no one really seems all that happy.

Happiness isn’t something you work toward, the same way misery isn’t something you work toward.

He pondered his turmoil, wondering which he feared most—losing his father or being alone in the world. Both were inevitable. Neither could be stopped or slowed down. All he could do now was brace for impact.