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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
Littles
Little
Hollowed
Smash
Alice
Million
Pieces
Millions
Easy

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I think you’re the saddest person I’ve ever met. It’s like you’re drowning in it.
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You're right . . . you can't go back. No matter how much you want to, you never can
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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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Do you really think he was flirting with me? Let's see. He gave you candy you hate - I saw your face - and a CD of songs... He looks at the CD. All of these are, like, twenty years old at least. Figures. Oh, and he groped your face. Sounds like true love to me.
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And you… do you know what you are?” “Stupid?” “Beautiful,” he says, his face turning red.
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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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Okay, I guess you can come in. Um, Hannah, you have to, you know, open the front door so I can actually come in. I thought you were going to - you're standing under my window. Aren't you supposed to climb up here or something? My ladder's at home. Also, you call throwing rocks at your window clichéd?
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My name is Danielle. I'm eighteen. I've been stealing things for as long as I can remember
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You ready? Evan asks, and he's looking at me, and I love his hair, I love his smile, I lo--I Love You, I say, and as I watch his smile bloom I finally get how great those three little words are. I finally get what they really mean.
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...sometimes, you have to break your own heart.
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School is just like having a job. You have to show up, you have to do your work, and you have to be around tons of idiots or mean people. Now that I think about it, it's worse than having a job. At least there you get paid.
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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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There are a million rules for being a girl. There are a million things you have to do to get through each day. High school has things that can trip you up, ruin you, people say one thing and mean another, and you have to know all the rules, you have to know what you can and can't do.
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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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I love books. I like that the moment you open one and sink into it you can escape from the world, into a story that's way more interesting that yours will ever be.
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I'll always remember taking your hand and telling you that everything would be okay.
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What had been became what was and a story only works when you know the ending. When the people in it don’t seem like pretend. When you can think about that girl and how she was once upon a time, and see her. When you don’t already know the story is a lie.
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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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I'd forgotten how much feelings hurt.
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I-I don't usually go around throwing rocks at people's windows. Or saying that I've wanted to kiss you since your first day at work, when you wanted to know why we had three codes for fish sandwiches when we only sold one kind.
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