There's just something beautiful about walking on snow that nobody else has walked on. It makes you believe you're special.
Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.
Once you know a thing you can’t ever unknow it.
I thought of all the different kinds of love in the world. I could think of ten without even trying. The way parents love their kids, the way you love a puppy or chocolate ice cream or home or your favorite book or your sister. Or your uncle. There's those kinds of love and then there's the other kind. The falling kind.
That's what being shy feels like. Like my skin is too thin, the light too bright. Like the best place I could possibly be is in a tunnel far under the cool, dark earth. Someone asks me a question and I stare at them, empty-faced, my brain jammed up with how hard I'm trying to find something interesting to say. And in the end, all I can do is nod or shrug, because the light of their eyes looking at me, waiting for me, is just too much to take. And then it's over and there's one more person in the world who thinks I'm a complete and total waste of space.
I knew the way lost hopes could be dangerous, how they could turn a person into someone they never thought they'd be.
I had no idea how greedy my heart really was.
I need to figure out the secret. I need to work out how to keep things flying back to me instead of always flying away.
I felt like I had proof that not all days are the same length, not all time has the same weight. Proof that there are worlds and worlds and worlds on top of worlds, if you want them to be there.
There are dark black buttons tattooed on my heart. I’ll carry them for the rest of my days.
I only need one good friend to see me through. Most people aren't like that. Most people are always looking out for more people to know.
I stared hard, trying to find a pattern. Thinking if I kept looking hard enough, maybe the pieces of the world would fit back together into something I could understand.
If my life was a film, I’d have walked out by now.
I dream about people who don't need to have sex to know they love each other.
The kinds of things I want don't cost money.
You can build a whole world around the tiniest of touches.
You think I don't know about wrong love, June? You think I don't understand embarrassing love?
My mother gave me a disappointed look. Then I gave her one back. Mine was for everything, not just the sandwich.
Every new party, every new bunch of people, and I start thinking that maybe this is my chance.That I'm going to be normal this time. A new leaf. A fresh start. But then I find myself at the party, thinking, Oh, yeah. This again.
Sometimes it feels good to take the long way home.
I was in a place where nobody knew my heart even a little bit.
You could try to believe what you wanted, but it never worked. Your brain and your heart decided what you were going to believe and that was that. Whether you liked it or not.
Nothing had changed. I was the stupid one again. I was the girl who never understood who she was to people.
It seemed like life was a sort of narrowing tunnel Right when you were born, the tunnel was huge. You could be anything,. Then, like, the absolute second after you were born, the tunnel narrowed down to about half that size....I figured on the day you died, the tunnel would be so narrow, you'd have squeezed yourself in with so many choices, that you just got squashed.
You get into habits. Ways of being with certain people.
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