I wanted to talk to someone. But who? It’s moments like this, when you need someone the most, that your world seems smallest.
The reward is in the risk.
I could become a nun even if I am a non-believer. I’ll learn to fake it like Nick did with me. I will minister the gospel of compassion and kindness and please, always use a condom, from famine-stricken nations to war-torn dead zones. It’s possible I might become a nun who kisses other nuns...
You bookish little pervert.
The best is when we all go at once, like an army of interrelated popcorn zombies who laugh the same laughs and gasp the same gasps and aren’t so germ-phobic with each other that we won’t share a ginormous Coke with one straw. Family is useful like that.
Well sure, who doesn’t need a boyfriend? but realistically, those exotic creatures are hard to come by. At least a quality one.
People come to New York to be different, but I go to Starbucks to be the same.
You should never wish for wishful thinking.
We believe in the wrong things. That’s what frustrates me the most. Not the lack of belief, but the belief in the wrong things. You want meaning? Well, the meanings are out there. We’re just so damn good at reading them wrong.
Be careful what you’re doing, because no one is ever who you want them to be. And the less you really know them, the more likely you are to confuse them with the girl or boy in your head.
He’s not my step brother technically, so I think it’s okay that I kissed him once.
Better to end this dream before it becomes a nightmare.
But she’s not, and I am left to wonder on my own: How does this work, the getting to know a new guy without revealing too much desperation for his undivided attention?
All this hoping for nothing-or someone-that’s maybe hopeless.
When is the night over? Is it the start of sunrise or the end of it? Is it when you finally go to sleep or simply when you realize that you have to?
I walked inside Macy’s and faced the pathetic spectacle of a department store full of shoppers, none of whom were shopping for themselves. Without the instant gratification of a self-aimed purchase, everyone walked around in the tactical stupor of the financially obligated.
I am bigger than the box I’m in.
Once upon a time, Sleeping Beauty decided to take a nap from which she would never wake up.
Answer all the questions that I’m too afraid to ask.
The handwriting was a girl’s. I mean, you can tell. That enchanted cursive.