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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.

Elizabeth Scott

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Elizabeth Scott
Actually
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Everything
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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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Too late, too late, juice pouring does not a kind soul make, and I killed you.
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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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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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the thing is you can get used to anything you think you cant you want to die but you dont you cant you just are
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Sometimes being me is very confusing.
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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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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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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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Talking about someone who makes you happy actually makes you happy.
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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.
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