Things end. People leave. And you know what? Life goes on. Besides, if bad things didn't happen, how would you be able to feel the good ones?
The world will knock you down plenty. You don't need to be doing it to yourself.
The truth is, I feel beyond sad. I feel empty. Numb.
Things change. Stuff happens. Life goes on.
You tell yourself that you aren't something or that you can't be something, and you know what? It will become true. You have to decide who you are and what you can do and then go after what you want. Because believe me, no one is going to give it to you.
Why do people think being with someone is the answer to everything?
I love books. I like that the moment you open one and sink into it you can escape from the world, into a story that's way more interesting that yours will ever be.
And what if---what are you if the people who are supposed to love you can leave you like you're nothing?
I do not fall. I fell so hard so long ago there is nothing left for me to land on. I just keep falling and falling and falling.
I see what grief does, how it strips you bare, shows you all the things you don't want to know. That loss doesn't end, that there isn't a moment where you are done, when you can neatly put it away and move on.
I want to care, but I don’t. I look at you and all I feel is tired.
I wish it had never happened because then I wouldn't think about it as I'm falling asleep.
The thing about hearts is that they always want to keep beating
Imagine a guy. He’s a little taller than you, with perfect skin, skin that just screams “touch me!” and dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes and he looks so sweet and he is sweet. And then have him blush a little.
Things... well, things suck sometimes. And sometimes you can fix it. And sometimes you can't. It's just the way it is.
love is...you get confused and you do stuff you don't mean to do-and you just-you hate yourself and sometimes you don't even want to love the person you do because it would be so much easier if you didn't.But you just-you just do.
I heard how people sounded when their dreams were shattered, when their lives were turned into a waking nightmare.
Look at me. We aren´t them lauren. You´re not your mother or father any more than I´m my mother. You´re you and I´m me and I love you.
But the past couple of days I’ve missed you so much it’s felt like missing you is all I am.
Okay, I guess you can come in." "Um, Hannah, you have to, you know, open the front door so I can actually come in." "I thought you were going to - you're standing under my window. Aren't you supposed to climb up here or something?" "My ladder's at home. Also, you call throwing rocks at your window clichéd?
My mother taught me to believe in silver, to believe in things, but I think it's more important to believe in me.
Are you reading?" I say. It's not that I don't think Finn can read or anything, but it's just - well, not what I expected to see. I figured Finn spent his time doing whatever it is guys who aren't Josh do when they aren't in school. Burping, or something. "Try not to look so surprised," Finn says. "I read. I can count to ten. Sometimes I can even spell my own name.
My name is Danielle. I'm eighteen. I've been stealing things for as long as I can remember
Like a heart, and I wish mine wasn't beating.
It could be enough, maybe, or at least a start, but the problem is that at night I tumble into dreams that aren't dreams at all. I tumble into memories and wake up aching for a dying world and a quiet, cold life that offered me nothing but sitting in a still room.
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