Talking about someone who makes you happy actually makes you happy.
Hope was supposed to be a good thing, but it was starting to feel like every other four-letter word you’re not supposed to say.
The thing about hearts is that they always want to keep beating.
I suppose he’s making a real fashion statement, but this is high school. You’re not supposed to be real. You’re supposed to be enough like everyone else to get through and out into the waiting world.
I liked him first, but it doesn’t matter. I still like him. That doesn’t matter either. Or at least, it’s not supposed to.
I love you,′ I say, and I watch his smile bloom I finally get how great those three little words are. I finally get what they really mean.
That damn spark.
I don’t eat bread.′ Is she pouting? It’s hard to tell. She’s had a lot of chemicals injected into her face.
I am the living dead girl because I am too weak to die. I hate those crying dough women on TV because they are just like me, weak and broken and clinging to the hands that hold us under.
How can I remember a world that isn’t mine? One that isn’t the one I wake up in every day now?
He never heard my story but he taught me it wasn’t true. It was just pretend but pretending is hard.
Everyone else carries a backpack, but not Josh. He has a cool, beat-up messenger bag, covered with stickers protesting all kinds of things.
I see it in his eyes, he has eyes you can see everything in, and I say, “Morgan,” my voice as quiet as the ghost I am supposed to be.
But the past couple of days I’ve missed you so much it’s felt like missing you is all I am.
Things change. Stuff happens. Life goes on.
I’m always the one who doesn’t have a date, the one guys walk up to and say, “So, is your friend, you know, with someone?” and I may not be the only girl without someone, but it feels like it sometimes. A lot of the time.
I want to care, but I don’t. I look at you and all I feel is tired.
I’ll always remember taking your hand and telling you that everything would be okay.
Just once, I wanted to lose something without the whole world watching.
All the things I’ve thought about love are true. It’s beautiful and terrible and it doesn’t make things perfect. It ends things, and it brings beginnings. This is mine.