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How was I supposed to know what's real and what's not? It feels like I'm the only one who doesn't know the difference.

Jenny Han

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Jenny Han
Age: 44
Born: 1980
Born: September 3
Novelist
Writer
Richmond
Virginia
Supposed
Difference
Differences
Doesn
Feels
Real
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Firsts are best because they are beginnings
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Happiness is a Slurpee and a hot pink straw.
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When you walk on the beach at night, you can say things you can't say in real life.
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When boy likes you, you say no thank you. You don't kick him on the ground.
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For me there was-is-nothing better than walking on the beach late at night. It feels like you could walk forever, like the whole night is yours and so is the ocean. When you walk on the beach at night, you can say things you can't say in real life. In the dark you can feel really close to a person. You can say whatever you want.
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I wonder what it's like to have that much power over a boy. I don't think I'd want it - it's a lot of responsibility to hold a person's heart in your hands.
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Sometimes questions can be more cruel than insults.
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He didn't give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.
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I loved him in a way that you can really only do the first time around. It's the kind of love that doesn't know better and doesn't want to-it's dizzy and foolish and fierce. That kind of love is really a one-time-only thing.
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Love is scary: it changes it can go away. That's the part of the risk. I don't want to be scared anymore.
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There hadn’t been one specific moment. It was like gradualy waking up. You go from being asleep to the space between dreaming and awake and then into consciousness. It’s a slow process, but when you’re awake, there’s no mistaking it. There was no mistaking that it had been love.
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I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice, and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved, which I expected. What I didn't expect was to feel so much grief.
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And no matter what you do or how hard you try, you can’t stop yourself from dreaming.
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There's no use in asking what if. No one could ever give you the answers.
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You never know the last time you’ll see a place. A person.
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When it's finals week and you've been studying for five hours straight, you need three things to get you through the nigh.The biggest Slurpee you can find,half cherry half Coke.Pajama pants, the kind that have been washed so many times they are tissue-paper thin. And finally,dace breaks.Lots of dance breaks.
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If love is like a possession, maybe my letters are like my exorcisms.
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In the dark you can feel really close to a person. You can say whatever you want.
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You can't put being in love on a scale. Either you are or you aren't.
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Aching familiar in a way that made me wish I was still eight. Eight was before death or divorce or heartbreak. Eight was just eight. Hot dogs and peanut butter, mosquito bites and splinters, bikes and boogie boards. Tangled hair, sunburned shoulders, Judy Blume, in bed by nine thirty.
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