You think fairy tales are only for girls? Here’s a hint—ask yourself who wrote them.
Wow. I feel like in this riot of people, I have been kicked in the stomach, but by the giddy police. Forget about the need for oxygen. My mouth wants to go back to the place it just left.
We always see the worst in our selves. Our most volnerable selves. We need someone to get close enough to tell us that we're wrong. Someone we trust.
There's no such thing as a soulmate...and who would want there to be? I don't want half of a shared soul. I want my own damn soul.
Then again. Maybe the simple diagnosis of either hetero or homo is misleading. Maybe there’s just sexuality, and it’s bendable and unpredictable, like a circus performer,
The way you’re singing in your sleep The way you look before you leap The strange illusions that you keep You don’t know But I’m noticing The way your touch turns into arcs The way you slide into the...
The reward is in the risk. You can’t stay hidden inside Grandpa’s overprotective cloak forever. You’ve seemed like you needed to grow out of that for a while. Mom and Dad going away, and the red noteb...
The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There's no getting over that.
The first person I think of when I wake up in the morning, the last person I hope for when I fall asleep at night.
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 ginor...
Sofia was miffed. And if American girls make being miffed a sweet-and-sour emotion, European girls always manage to add an undercurrent of murder to it.
So what do you have to confess now?I don't know why I'm saying any of this, except that it's the truth. I'm confessing that I don't know if I'm ready for this.What is 'this'?Being open. Being hurt. Li...
So this chocolate princess. Her knight in shining armor is the Easter Bunny.
So there we were. Once upon a time, during the storybook version of dating we’d gone through, I’d pretended that it was possible to love her when I only mildly liked her. Now I had no desire to preten...
She was laughing at something Dov was saying to her, but she was looking at me, like he was the distraction and I was the conversation.
She smells like marijuana smoke. It’s not a bad smell. Just a sad one.
Say you're bored. Or you can't sleep. Maybe your mom is yelling at you, or the boy/ girl you like doesn't like you back in the same way, or you're too fat to even consider going to prom. Or the closet...
Our love had been liking; our feelings had been ordinary, not Shakespearean. I still felt fondness for her—fondness, that pleasant, detached mix of admiration and sentiment, appreciation and nostalgia...
My heart literally aches, that shit is not made up.
Like dogs and lions, small children can sense fear. The slightest flinch, the slightest disinclination, and they will jump atop you and devour you.