It’s not stupid to want to put on a pretty dress and feel beautiful for a night.
You only have one chance to make a first impression.
You can’t avoid your problems forever. No one can.
When two people are in love, it’s supposed to work. It has to work. No matter how difficult the circumstances are.
Because I was right. For the two of us, home isn’t a place. It’s a person. And we’re finally home.
I just want you to know that we didn’t do anything but talk and sleep – sleep sleep,” he quickly adds. “Like with eyes closed and hands to oneself and dreaming. Innocent dreams. I would never do anything behind your back. I mean, never anything dishonorable. I mean-.
How does one proceed in a situation like this? If only the discovery of mutual admiration could lead promptly into making out. If only I could say, ‘Listen. I like you, and you like me, so let’s go find a secluded park and touch each other.
Josh grins. It’s wide and relieved and reveals a rarely seen pair of dimples. I could live inside those dimples for the rest of my life.
Did you wake me up... to talk about candy?
It’s often suggested that as a culture, we’re only interested in immediate gratification. Fast food. Self-checkout. Downloadable music, movies, books. Instant coffee, instant rebates, instant messaging. Instant weight loss! Shall I go on?
Andy once clipped a magazine article about how black dogs are always the last to be adopted at shelters and, therefore, more likely to be put down. Which is totally Dog Racism, if you ask me.
Life is too short to be the same person everyday.
I finally realized how absurd it was that I’d worried so much about what my classmates thought about me. It’s not like I wanted to look like them.
I’m going to be sick. I’m going to vomit that weird eggplant tapenade I had for dinner, and everyone will hear, and no one will invite me to watch the mimes escape from their invisible boxes, or whatever it is people do here in their spare time.
Is it possible for a home to be a person and not a place? Brigette used to be home to me. Maybe St. Clair is my new home.
The lines are careful. They reveal he pays attention. People don’t think he does, because he daydreams and skips class and neglects his homework, but when I see his drawings, I know they’re wrong.
It’s about isolation and loneliness, but it’s also about friendship. Being exactly what the other person needs.
It’s strange. Home. How I could wish for it so long, only to come back and find it gone.
But it’s a person’s imperfections that make them perfect for someone else.
Holy crap. I just slept with St. Clair.