But somehow, knowing the Moleskine was tucked away in my bag, containing our thoughts and clues, our imprints to each other, somehow that made me feel safe, like I could have this adventure and not ge...
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?
But love needs to have a future. And Sofia and I don't have a future. We've just had a good time sharing the present, that's all.
When people say right person, wrong time, or wrong person, right time, it’s usually a cop-out. They think that fate is playing with them. That we’re all just participants in this romantic reality show...
What’s the one thing we want when it comes to the people we love? Time. And what’s the scariest thing about how love goes? Time. The thing we want the most is the thing we fear the most, I guess. Time...
What I mean, Sofia said, is that when people say right person, wrong time, or wrong person, right time, it’s usually a cop-out. They think that fate is playing with them. That we’re all just participa...
We hadn’t vowed to write every day, and we hadn’t written every day. We hadn’t sworn to be true to each other, because there hadn’t been much to be true to.
The point is that I really don't want to break up with me. In fact, what I'd like is for us to do the opposite of break up with each other.
The incidental fact of his straightness doesn’t mean I want to be NoMo’s five-minute girlfriend, like I’m some 7-Eleven quick stop on his slut train.
That's because you're interpreting it the wrong way. I didn't mean it as a wistful, overdramatic declaration. I mean that the love I felt for him was huge and real, and, while painful, it forever chan...
That bitch should not be in a club like this. As if her language is not enough indication, there is also the matter of her Hot Topic mallrat outfit: short black leather skirt with buckles up the side,...
Somebody how wouldn't judge another for prepositions they dangle, or their run-on sentences, and who in turn wouldn't be judged for the snobbery of their language etymology inclinations.
Some spray-painted graffiti on the wall asks, Is it nothing to you all who pass by? Lamentations 1:12 and I think, No, Lord, whoever the hell You are, this is not nothing to me. This counts.
Sofia smiled at me. You think fairy tales are only for girls? Here’s a hint—ask yourself who wrote them. I assure you, it wasn’t just the women. It’s the great male fantasy—all it takes is one dance t...
My hands were starting to shake a little. Because I hadn’t known that I knew these things. Just having a notebook to write them in, and having someone to write them to, made them all rise to the surfa...
It’s definitely worth something, I said. A lot. We still don’t know each other, right? And I’ll admit—I thought it might be best if we kept it all to the page, passed that notebook back and forth unti...
I've always resented Hermione, because I wanted to be her so badly and she never seemed to appreciate as much as I thought she should that she got be her. She got to live at Hogwarts and be friends wi...
I wanted to like her and I wanted her to like me and that was more want than I had saddled myself with in many a moon.
I start to lose consciousness, and only desperation and fear keep my heart pounding, hard. Darkness descends, as Awful rises. Ivan has no idea what's coming. Neither do I. Last time I did not fight ha...
I may have a potty mouth, but I do not get caught in illicit sexual encounters in Marriotts, for fuck’s sake. I guess I could be open to a Ritz-Carlton or a Four Seasons, but a Marriott, no fucking wa...