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I'd chosen instead to just change my route, go miles out of the way, as if avoiding it would make it go away once and for all.
Sarah Dessen
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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Make
Routes
Would
Avoiding
Miles
Chosen
Instead
Away
Change
Way
Route
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Their words, like the music, had the potential to be endless.
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I reached up with my finger and traced the scar over my eyebrow, remembering when that was the greatest hurt I'd ever known.
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Some things are meant to be broken. Imperfect. Chaotic.
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He was the closest thing I'd ever had to something, or someone, that mattered. But in the end, close didn't count. You were either in, or you weren't.
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Accepting all the good and bad about someone. It's a great thing to aspire to. The hard part is actually doing it.
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It’s the things you fight for and struggle with before earning that have the greatest worth.
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Maybe it was true, and being a girl could be about interest rates and skinny jeans, riding bikes and wearing pink. Not about any one thing, but everything.
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From up above, in a plane passing over, you’d just see one little light in all this dark, with no idea of the lives that were being lived within it, and in the house beside, and beside that one. So much happening in the world, night and day, hour by hour. It was no wonder we were meant to sleep, if only to check out of it for a little while.
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That's the thing about someone who rarely gets upset: when they do, you notice.
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You know, I think I knew you for about three weeks before I ever really saw you smile. And then one day, Morgan said something and you laughed, and I remember thinking it was really cool because it meant something. You're not the kind of person who smiles for nothing, Colie. I have to earn every one.
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It was so easy to disown what you couldn't recognize, to keep yourself apart from things that were foreign and unsettling. The only person you can be sure to control, always, is yourself. Which is a lot to be sure of, but at the same time, not enough.
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Never would forever, with all its meanings, be so clear and distinct as in the true, guaranteed end of the world.
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At the same time, though, I was beginning to wonder if this was just how it was supposed to be for me, like perhaps I wasn't capable of having that many people in my life at any one time. My mom turned up, Nate walked away, one door opening as another clicked shut.
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Just me and the future, finally together. Now there was a happy ending I could believe in.
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I hated high school. I was not the greatest student, participated in no activities, and spent most of my time hanging out in my parking lot.
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I'm really interested in the idea of anomynity and familiarity. And sunglasses, you know, are so indicatitve of that. I mean, they're worn by some people to hide themselves. But they're also a fashion statement, meant to be noticed. So there's a dichotomy there.
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If you try anything, if you try to lose weight, or to improve yourself, or to love, or to make the world a better place, you have already achieved something wonderful, before you even begin. Forget failure. If things don't work out the way you want, hold your head up high and be proud. And try again. And again. And again!
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closed my eyes and listened. It was like music I'd heard all my life, even more than This Lullaby. All those keystrokes, all those letters, so many words. I brushed my fingers over the beads and watched as her image rippled, like it was on water, breaking apart gently and shimmering before becoming whole again.
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