After tiny has tried ballerina pose, swing-batter-batter pose, pump-up-the-jam pose, and top-of-the-mountain-sound-of-music pose in the reflection of the bean, he walks us to a bench overlooking lake shore drive.
that's it - hundreds of texts and conversations, thousands upon thousands of words spoken and sent, all boiled down into a single line. is that what relationships become?
need is never a good basis for any relationship. it has to be much more than that.
it's the belief, not the words, that mean everything. it's the floating.
luckily, tiny texts me every five minutes or so. i don't know how he does it without getting caught in class. maybe he hides the phone in the folds of his stomach or something.
Because it is senior year I have begun to see things as potential absences. The things I love will become the things I'll miss.
Then I go in the den and turn on Law & Order, since the only thing i can really count on in life is that whenever I turn on the TV, there will be a Law & Order episode.
I was horribly bookish, to the point of coming right out and saying it, which I knew was not socially acceptable. I particularly loved the adjective bookish, which I found other people used about as often as ramrod or chum or teetotaler.
I find I very rarely live up to my words. And since you know me primarily through my words, there are oh so many ways I can disappoint.
And who am I to blow against the wind?
It felt good to be surrounded by books, by all this solid knowledge, by these objects that could be ripped page by page but couldn't be torn if the pages all held together.
I want my own books to have their own shelves," you said, and that's how I knew it would be okay to live together.
aloof, adj. It has always been my habit, ever since junior high school, to ask that question: “What are you thinking?” It is always an act of desperation, and I keep on asking, even though I know it will never work the way I want it to.
What's the big deal with France? How come everyone wants to go there? Let me tell you about France. Their music sucks. Their movies suck. Their berets suck. Their croissants are pretty good, but the place overall still sucks.My family went there once on the way to visit Dad's homeland family. EuroDisney. Need I say more?
We are so used to releasing words. We don't know what to do with them if they stay.
Maybe there is hope in the fragments, that what is lost can always be filled in by someone who knows.
I don’t want to know anything, and I want to know it all
You don't know me. You know one me, just like I know one you. And you can't know every me, and I can't know every you.
Serrated, adj. And you said, "I'm not sure we can.
No funny stuff in here tonight, you understand?” Dash said, “I assure you I could not contemplate any of your so-called funny stuff seeing as how I have no idea why I’m even here.” Mark scoffed. “You bookish little pervert.” “Thank you, sir!” Dash said brightly.
Why do we even bother? Why do we make ourselves so open to such easy damage? Is it all loneliness? Is it all fear? Or is it just to experience those narcotic moments of belonging with someone else?
There is certainty in a ring. The non-ending, the non-beginning. The ongoing. The way it holds on to you not because it's fastened or stretched or adhered. It holds on because it fits.
No, really,' I said. 'I think she's great. And I honestly like her about twenty more times now than I did when we were dating. But love needs to have a future. And Sofia and I don't have a future. We've just had a good time sharing the present, that's all.
We stay this way until twilight colours the window and the hour calls me home
Our moments are music, and sometimes – just sometimes – we can catch them and put them into some lasting form. If we didn’t have music, I don’t think we could ever be truly happy, and if we didn’t have special moments, we would never find music.
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