I don't want to be somebody's crush. If somebody likes me, I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am.
please believe that things are good with me, and even when they're not, they will be soon enough. And i will always believe the same about you.
I walk around the school hallways and look at the people. I look at the teachers and wonder why they're here. If they like their jobs. Or us. And I wonder how smart they were when they were fifteen. Not in a mean way. In a curious way. It's like looking at all the students and wondering who's had their heart broken that day, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes and a book report due on top of that. Or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why.
I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with someone even if they could have. I need to know these people exist.
I walked over to the hill where we used to go and sled. There were a lot of little kids there. I watched them flying. Doing jumps and having races. And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but it isn't.
It’s strange how things can change back as suddenly as they changed originally. When one thing happens and suddenly, things are back to normal.
It's much easier to not know things sometimes. Things change and friends leave. And life doesn't stop for anybody.
So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.
I just want you to know that you’re very special… and the only reason I’m telling you is that I don’t know if anyone else ever has.
I just hope I remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as I look in my old photographs. And I hope that they believe me.
And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but it isn't.
I hate you.I love you.You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have.I'm trying not to be.
I sat down and tried to write a story.Ian MacArthur is a wonderful sweet fellow who wears glasses and peers out of them with delight.That was the first sentence. The problem was that I just couldn't think of the next one. After cleaning my room three times, I decided to leave Ian alone for a while because I was starting to get mad at him.
I was in my bed trying to figure out why sometimes you can wake up and go back to sleep and other times you can't
As you see the opening get closer, you just can't get fast enough. And finally, just when you think you'll never get there, you see the opening right in front of you.
I'm not saying she was lying to me, but she just acted so different before I got to know her, and if she really isn't like what she was at the beginning, I wish she could have just said so.
But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things.
Why do I and everyone I love pick people who treat us like we're nothing; - We accept the love we think we deserve
There's nothing like deep breaths after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons.
My Aunt Helen was my favorite person in the whole world. She was my mom’s sister. She got straight A’s when she was a teenager and she used to give me books to read. My father said that the books were a little too old for me, but I liked them so he just shrugged and let me read.
On Friday night, I was reading my new book, but my brain got tired, so I decided to watch some television instead.
I hate you.'My sister said it different than she said it to my dad. She meant it with me. She really did.'I love you,' was all I could say in return.
Girls like guys to be a challenge. It gives them some mold to fit in how they act. Like a mom. What would a mom do if she couldn't fuss over you and make you clean your room? And what would you do without her fussing and making you do it? Everyone needs a mom. And a mom knowns this. And it gives her a sense of purpose. You get it?
Sam and Patrick looked at me. And I looked at them. And I think they knew. Not anything specific really. They just knew. And I think that's all you can ever ask from a friend.
And then he says something like this ... I would die for you. But I won't live for you. Something like that. I think the idea is that every person has to live for his or her own life and then make the choice to share it with other people.
To tell you the truth, I've just been avoiding everything. I walk around the school hallways and look at the people. I look at the teachers and wonder why they're here. If they like their jobs. Or us. And I wonder how smart they were when they were fifteen. Not in a mea way. In a curious way. it's like looking at all the students and wondering who's had their heart broken that da, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes and a book report on top of that. or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why. Especially since I know that if they went to another school, the person who had their heart broken would have had their heart broken by somebody else, so why does it have to be so personal? And if I went to another school, I would never have known Sam or Patrick or Mary Elizabeth or anyone except my family. (Pg 142)
Incidentally, I only have one cavity, and as much as my dentist asks me to, I just can't bring myself to floss.
I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn't try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have. I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with people even if they could have. I need to know that these people exist.
And when she started becoming a “young lady,” and no one was allowed to look at her because she thought she was fat. And how she really wasn’t fat. And how she was actually very pretty. And how different her face looked when she realized boys thought she was pretty. And how different her face looked the first time she really liked a boy who was not on a poster on her wall. And how her face looked when she realized she was in love with that boy. I wondered how her face would look when she came out from behind those doors.