Don't you ever wonder whose reality we're in? Like, I-I'm pretty sure that some of my thoughts are Javi's thoughts. My favorite thoughts are Jackie's. The slumber party make outs? The jealousy? The betrayal?

That's the terrible truth we left out there, buried. Along with the people we called our friends. Except it's all coming back to me now. The danger. The thrill. The person I was back then. Not a wife, or a mother. I was a warrior. I was a fucking queen.

The night of the fire was the same night that Natalie was chosen to be leader. And I saw the look on your face, the disappointment you had. Are you upset that you weren't chosen to be leader? […] After everything that you've done? After everything that you have been through to survive?

The trauma people say survivors forget things to protect themselves because they were so horrible, but I think we can't or won't remember it clearly because we recognize, deep down, that we were having so much fun.

It's the same guy fighting himself, defeating his own psyche. Ego death.

I'm over 300 years old. Beauty sleep isn't optional.

Everybody leaves you, Dean. You noticed? Mommy. Daddy. Even Sam. You ever ask yourself why?