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I don’t know, shifted a little or something, smoothed down–people would think of me the way they think of Dave, and everything would always be perfect. I would be perfect.

Elizabeth Scott

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Elizabeth Scott
Everything
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Way
Smoothed
Always
Shifted
Would
Dave
Think
Perfect
Thinking
Littles
People
Little

More quotes by Elizabeth Scott

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Vitamins ruined my life. Not that there was much left to ruin, but still. I know that blaming vitamins for my horrible life sounds strange. After all, vitamins are supposed to keep people healthy. Also, they're inanimate objects. But thanks to them I was stuck in the Jackson Center Mall watching my father run around in a bee costume.
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Sometimes being me is very confusing.
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Why do people think being with someone is the answer to everything?
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Too late, too late, juice pouring does not a kind soul make, and I killed you.
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He is nothing to look at, and yet I can’t stop looking at him. There is something beautiful in how his face is made, how all the tiny flaws blend together into something more perfect than perfection could ever be.
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I told you we were meant to be, he says, still smiling, still so Finn, who was always here but who I just didn't see and now-- Well, now I kiss him.
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I want to lie down on the bench then, or better yet, on the grass, rest on something living and see if I can hear the dead underneath.
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How come you like Josh so much anyway? All he does is sit around drinking overpriced coffee and bitching about how awful things are He cares about the world. If he cared about the world, he'd donate the ten thousand dollars he must spend on coffee every year to charity. That would be doing something.
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It was like we were all so busy trying to be happy or saying we were happy, but underneath there was nothing but bitterness, the kind that could only be bled out in ink, in unspoken word.
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But the past couple of days I’ve missed you so much it’s felt like missing you is all I am.
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Check it out. I got a new name tag today. He unclipped it and held it out toward me. I looked at it. A. GUY. He grinned. Someone actually asked me what the A stood for, he said, his hand brushing mine as he took the tag back, sliding it into his pocket. I said Larry.
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I don't know how I know that, but I do. I can feel the beat of that truth inside me. Taste it bitter on my tongue. Sometimes, like now, I didn't think I want to know who I really am.
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And what if---what are you if the people who are supposed to love you can leave you like you're nothing?
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It could be enough, maybe, or at least a start, but the problem is that at night I tumble into dreams that aren't dreams at all. I tumble into memories and wake up aching for a dying world and a quiet, cold life that offered me nothing but sitting in a still room.
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...sometimes, you have to break your own heart.
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The thing is, that world doesn't exist. All growing up means is that your realize no one will come along to fix things. No one will come along to save you.
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Talking about someone who makes you happy actually makes you happy. Being happy makes you want to talk, to go over everything, to share it so you can remember it all over again.
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But I know a lie when I hear one.
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It's bullshit. It's so easy to label people, to look at a list of symptoms and say, This is who you are. This is what you are.
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Cute is one of those words people use when they know you're smart enough to realize you've got so much personality means you're ugly.
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