No, I don’t love Max anymore. But I don’t want to give you this broken, empty me. I want you to have me when I’m full, when I can give something back to you. I don’t have much to give right now.
I have the strangest feeling that he’s aware of me as I am of him.
What do you say to someone who is not the same and yet completely the same?
One of the new girls followed me in and said she thinks Toph is an insensitive douchebag motherhumping assclown, and that I shouldn’t let him get to me. Which was sweet, but didn’t really help.
You’re the most incredible girl I’ve ever known. You’re gorgeous and smart, and you make me laugh like no one else can. And I can talk to you. And I know after all this I don’t deserve you, but what I’m trying to say is that I love you, Anna. Very much.
What my parents never considered is that I just wanted a choice.
Yes, St. Claire. I like you. But I can’t say it aloud, because he’s my friend. And friends don’t let other friends make drunken declarations and expect them to act upon them the next day.
Some people are finicky about going to the theater alone, but I’m not. Because when the lights go down, the only relationship left in the room is the one between the movie and me.
It’s become impossible to deny he means something to me.
I just can’t fathom why anyone would stand on a ledge when there’s a respectable amount of walking space right next to it.
You must think I’m a complete idiot right? That I’m just some doormat who’ll wait for you on the sidelines forever? That you can keep running back to her every time things get difficult and I’ll just be okay with it?!
I collapse in bed and fall asleep with me other hand clasped around the blue rubber band. And I dream about blue eyes and blue nails and first-kiss lips dusted with blue sugar crystals.
Meretricious. Showily attractive but cheap or insincere.
They left me. My parents actually left me! IN FRANCE!
History books are filled with lies. Whoever wins the war tells the story.
Welcome to Paris, Anna. I’m glad you’ve come.
And it didn’t matter how many songs or poems had already been written about them, because whenever he thought about the girl, the stars shone brighter. As if she were the one keeping them illuminated.
Anna: You really think he likes me? Rashmi: Anna. He teases you all the time. It’s classic boy-pulling-girl’s-pigtail syndrome. And whenever anyone else even remotely does it, he always takes your side and tells them to shove it.
Seriously. We were never like that were we?
Saw two fallen branches in the shape of a heart. Thought of you.