Love You Hate You Miss You

The truth is, I feel beyond sad. I feel empty. Numb.

The thing is, that world doesn't exist. All growing up means is that your realize no one will come along to fix things. No one will come along to save you.

Why do people think being with someone is the answer to everything?

Wherever I go, I'll always see you. You'll always be with me. And there's no happy ending coming here, no way a story that started on a night that's burned into my heart will end the way I wish it could. You're really gone, no last words, and no matter how many letters I write to you, you're never going to reply. You're never going to say good-bye. So I will. Good-bye, Julia. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being you.

I deserved the shaking and the headaches and the fact that every single time I took a breath I felt a squeezing in my chest, my heart beating even though I wished it wasn't.

You can't go back to how things were. How you thought they were. All you really have... is now

I suppose he's making a real fashion statement, but this is high school. You're not supposed to be real. You're supposed to be enough like everyone else to get through and out into the waiting world.

But the past couple of days I’ve missed you so much it’s felt like missing you is all I am.

I always wanted to be grown up. When I was little I couldn’t wait to be a teenager and go to high school. When I got there I wanted to be done with it, wanted to get out into the world, the real one, and live in it. The thing is, that world doesn’t exist. All growing up means is that you realize no one will come along to fix things. No one will come along to save you.

I knew I was having a panic attack. I hadn't had one in a while, though, and I'd forgotton how they made everything like it- and I- was going to fall apart. How they reminded me of how trapped I was.

It's bullshit. It's so easy to label people, to look at a list of symptoms and say, "This is who you are. This is what you are.

You're right . . . you can't go back. No matter how much you want to, you never can

All growing up means is that you realize no one will come along and fix things.

I never went for the talkers.

I lied to Julia, I didn't know what else to do because you - you make me feel..." I had to stop. Not because I didn't have words. I did. But I was afraid to say them. He looked at me, and I knew then I could love him. That if I let myself I would. "You make me feel too," he said, and held out one hand.

My father looked like he was having a stroke— not that Mel seemed to notice because he just kept talking. “Patrick needs a ride. No car, you know, and so I figured, hey, I can pick up some gas money.” He laughed. No one else did, and now Patrick looked like he was trying to push himself inside the door and hide.

Too late, too late, juice pouring does not a kind soul make, and I killed you.

I've missed you so much it's felt like missing you is all I am. Like if someone looked inside me, there wouldn't be a skeleton and muscles and blood and nerves. There'd just be memories of you and all the things I've tried to say and ripped out of this notebook, all the things I want to say but can't because I don't have the words.

She did the "we have mysterious hand gestures that make us giggle" thing.

He kept talking and I thought about taking my copy of Huckleberry Finn and stuffing it in his mouth so he'd shut up.