Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Never question the sanity of a woman who can render you defenseless with a look.
But you'd sell your soul for it, wouldn't you? For one day of feeling beautiful.
I'm scared. What will tomorrow bring? It has to be better than today. It has to.
As they were carting him off on a gurney, all I could think was, I wish that was me.
I hated him. I hated them all. They made me hate myself even more than I already did.
I close my eyes and black out the day. The exhaustion of living through it, surviving.
Who will see you through the darkness? "Me," I key in the answer. "I'll find my own way.
Take it as a token. Because tomorrow when I go, I want you to believe friends are possible.
She responds by kissing me harder and longer and deeper. She loves me too. She's just afraid.
It was all about hate. There should be laws. We're there laws? Can you legislate against hatred?
I have no intent. I have no reason to live, that's all. When I'm gone, I don't want to be remembered.
Trust. That was what this was all about. If you can't trust the one you love, you don't have anything.
She's still doing it, pushing me into situations I can't handle, making me cope. She knows I can't cope.
I know it's hard on her. If I don't tell her she'll kill me." He pauses. "That was supposed to be funny.
His eyes are like a telescope. I look into them and I'm transported across the universe to a world I've never been.
Secrets. I can't take then with me. If I do, when I go, when I arrive at my final destination, I'll be . . . impure.
I'd decided to write him and tell him to leave me alone. Please, in a nice way, go away, I really can't deal with you.
How does he do it? Live. With the fear of death every day. I don't fear death as much as I fear the thought of living.
This is my vision-what I imagine I'll pass through on my way to the light. The blue sky, the clouds, the rays of light.
I may be fat and ugly, but I'm not stupid. If anyone had ever gotten past my looks, they might've noticed I have a brain.
Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.
But its not funny. Not to people who've been told they're losers their whole lives and believe they will never be anything else.
But I'm no hero. I had to keep my dirty little secret. The worst sin I committed was holding it in; letting the secret blacken me.
Who becomes you? No one. No one should become me. When I die, I don't want my body or soul inhabited. I wouldn't wish me on anyone.
What will I become? Because I won't be me any longer. That will be a relief. I dont want to be the helpless person I've always been.
No one ever found out what was happening inside me. How the pain was eating me away. No one ever came to my rescue, or stood up for me.
I'm sorry you don't get it, Mom. Sometimes I don't get why I do the things I do. I just know I wake up every morning and wish I was dead.
Me? I had no dreams. No longings. Dreams only set you up for disappointment. Plus, you had to have a life to have dreams of a better life.
I never defended myself. Not once. I never said, "Excuse me? What gives you the right to insult and demean me?" I let them steal my dignity.
Is that all I am? A friend?" "Of course not," I say. "I love you." "Am I the only one?" she asks. "Yes. Completely." First, last, and always.
I didn't tell him. And I never told her the whole truth. What would it matter? There was nothing she could do; nothing anyone can do or will do.
Mom's eyes blazed. "Are you sleeping with her?" Oh, god. Did we have to do this here? Now? "Well, actually," I smirked, "we don't get a lot of sleep.
Our eyes met across the crowded room, like in the movies, except we didn't share a knowing smile and race into each other's arms. Instead I fell into the trash can.
I knew right then and there nothing was ever going to change. It wouldn't matter if I was tall or short or fat or thin or absent every day. I was a loser from birth.
People don't change. There are two kinds of people in the world: winners and losers. Black and white. I don't know where gray fits in, or if you can even live in that shade.
Miracles don't happen. You make them happen. They're not wishes or dreams or candles on a cake. They're not impossible. Reality is real. It's totally and completely under my control.
Year after year. "Please don't make me go [to school]" "You have to go," Kim would say. "It's a new school, make a new start." "Sticks and stones." from Chip. Words will only kill you.
Sometimes I'd catch myself looking at my reflection in windows and wonder who I was. Where I was going. Then the image would change and it wouldn't be me, just some nebulous shadow person.
My parents will be sad for a while, and they may even blame themselves, the way they do now. Eventually they'll come to peace with my decision. I hope they'll realize I'm finally at peace.
That earns him a smack with my book bag. "Ow." He clutches his arm. "What do you have in there? Books?" A grin snakes across his face. "I like my women feisty." He adds, "I like my broken.
You still have," I looked at my watch, "twelve seconds to change your mind. Find someone else and save your reputation." One side of his lip cricked up. "I found you. I'll take my chances.
I got singled out. I don't know why. Why do people always target me? Is it because I'm short and they figure I can't fight back? They're right, I can't, but it's not because I'm vertically challenged.
His invitation lingers. So does my question. Why me? I don't know the answer. When I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a starving, stunted bird who never grew wings and lost all reason to sing.
That same piercing screech in her voice every time at the hospital. "Do something!" When I slit my wrists. "Help her!" The last time too. "Somebody help her. Help us!" You're helpless, both of you. All of us.
I'm all she's got and if I don't make it this time . . ." You'll pass through the light. A ribbon of guilt twists my stomach. I'm all Kim and Chip have too. But the difference is, they'll be better off without me.
That's love? To let someone beat you and be hateful to you? These people are all so... Weak. Powerless to change their lives. I know the feeling. All you can do is take it. No one understands how it beats you down.
My room is cleared. My head is cleared. Earlier, around dawn, I took out the last load of trash. I look around and see what's left. Nothing. There is no more Daelyn Rice. As I was. As I am. Or will become. I'm a blank slate
Yet, when we talked, when we were together, she seemed so familiar. Seemed to know who I was, where I was coming from. She knew me better than I knew myself, I think. She was easy to be with. And I wanted to be with her, like all the time.
Sometimes I felt as if there were no tomorrows, that everything, my whole life, was crammed into one long day. A continuous stretch of meaningless time. Sometimes I even wished there was no tomorrow, if this was all I had to look forward to.
I hope they remember the good stuff, when I was a baby, a toddler, when they still had hopes and dreams for their little girl, their miracle child. In truth they were good to me. They were only doing what they knew how to do; what they thought was best.