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Little Alice, all hollowed out, so easy to smash into a million little pieces.

Elizabeth Scott

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Elizabeth Scott
Pieces
Millions
Easy
Littles
Little
Hollowed
Smash
Alice
Million

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I wish it had never happened because then I wouldn't think about it as I'm falling asleep.
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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 think...I think sometimes that's how it is. Sometimes people have to go before you get stuff. Before you can really get it.
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This is the real unwritten rule: You don't want what you know you shouldn't. And I haven't just broken that rule. I have wrecked it, smashed it, and still... And still I want.
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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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Hope was supposed to be a good thing, but it was starting to feel like every other four-letter word you're not supposed to say.
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I liked him first, but it doesn't matter. I still like him. That doesn't matter either. Or at least, it's not supposed to.
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I want to care, but I don’t. I look at you and all I feel is tired.
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You tell yourself that you aren't something or that you can't be something, and you know what? It will become true. You have to decide who you are and what you can do and then go after what you want. Because believe me, no one is going to give it to you.
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Please. If you were mostly dead in the middle of the road I'd obviously stop. And then I'd watch you die. Kate to Will
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Grace is my favourite church word. A state of being. Something you can pray for. Something God can grant. Something you can obtain. Perfection is out of reach. But grace -- grace you can reach for.
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I have been smashed and put back together so many times nothing works right. Nothing is where it should be, heavy thumping in my shoulder where my heart now beats.
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She became a story, one I have mostly forgotten. One I can't end because she died a long time ago.
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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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Kate, don't be like that. You know I only did so well because I yearn-see, SAT word- to follow you to college and steal your heart. Uh-huh. Too bad for you I don't plan on attending clown college. He grinned. Only you would ignore the incredibly sweet thing I just said. Only you would describe one of your asinine comments as incredibly
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I’m broken, I have cut myself wide open. I can see my heart and it is not what I believed it was, it is not good and kind and all the things I have always thought I am.
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Well as much as I'm sure the people next door who are pretending they aren't looking at me would like to hear what I have to say, I'd rather say it to just 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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This is what happiness is, past the rubbish of its overuse as a word, past the cracked gloss of the letters that mean nothing when strung together. They mean something now, and I know what it's like when you and someone else are right together. How simple is is, and how amazing.
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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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