It doesn’t become important until you don’t have it anymore.
Josh and I started out so easy, so fun, and now we’re like strangers. I’ll never have that person back, who I knew better than anyone and who knew me so well.
He has the look of a Handsome Boy from a different time. He could be a dashing World War I soldier, handsome enough for a girl to wait years for him to come back from war, so handsome she could wait forever.
I just want it to be fun and light the way it always is with us. I want him to at leas still be my friend. Especially now that we’re at the end.
This is the moment I realize I don’t love him, that I haven’t for a while. That maybe I never did. Because he’s right there for the taking: I could kiss him again; I could make him mine. But I don’t want him. I want someone else.
And in the end, he would become a memory, pressed in my heart like a leaf in my book.
She’s the kind of person you want to like you. You know she can be cruel; you’ve seen her be cruel. But when her eyes are on you, and she’s paying attention to you, you want it to last. Her beauty is part of it, but there’s something more – something that draws you in. I think it’s her transparency – everything she thinks or feels is written all over her face, and even if it wasn’t, she’d say it anyway, because she says what she thinks, without thinking first.
You’ll go about your day, and you will miss him at first, but over time it will ease. It will lessen.
You can’t protect him from being hurt, babe, no mattter what you do. Being vulnerable, letting people in, getting hurt... it’s all a part of being in love.
But then I see the way he is looking at me, with such tenderness, and I stop.
If they don’t talk now, the scar will only harden over time, it will calcify, and then they’ll be like strangers who never loved each other, which is the saddest thought of all.
I can see now that it’s the little things, the small efforts, that keep a relationship going.
You’ve never thought of me that way, not ever, so don’t go trying to reinvent history now when I have somebody.
Life is sexist. If you were to get pregnant, you’re the one whose life changes. Nothing of significance changes for the boy. You’re the one people whisper about. I’ve seen that show, Teen Moms. All those boys are worthless. Garbage!
You only know you can do something if you keep on doing it.
Love is scary: it changes; it can go away.
He smells like pool, and summer, and vacations. It’s not like in the movies. It’s better, because it’s real.
I need peace,” I say, closing my eyes. “I need to replenish myself with peace.
You’re both growing and changing, and it’s hard to grow and change at the same rate.
Just because a girl is sad, it doesn’t mean it has anything to do with PMS.