The Future of Us

How can you call it love when it hurt you so badly?" "It was love because it was worth it.

When the right moment appears, the key is to not let it pass.

I've always protected myself when it comes to love. And maybe that's the problem. By not letting myself get hurt now, it ripples into much bigger pain later.

If I had a chance with him, I missed it. No, I didn't miss it. I threw it away.

Why does it say she has three hundred and twenty friends?" Josh asks. "Who has that many friends?

They were like two magnets who couldn't decide whether to attract or repel.

What the hell happened to Pluto?!

People grow apart, and sometimes, there nothing anyone can do about it.

Rejection always hurts, but having it come from my best friend was the worst.

You need to figure out what you want, Josh. If that means you need to swim against the tide to get it, at least youre aiming for something that could make you very happy.

Yes, it feels great to plan your life when you believe everything can turn out fine. But what about when you're shown, again and again, how little control you have over anything? No matter what I do to try to fix my future, it doesn't work.

Emma:“He broke your heart! How can you call it love when he hurt you so badly?” Kellan:“It was love because it was worth it.

I don't know exactly what it is, but it looks like interconnected websites where people show their photos and write about everything going on in their lives, like whether they found a parking spot or what they ate for breakfast." "But why?" Josh asks.

One little ripple started today could create a typhoon fifteen years from now.

You know how I feel about love. It was invented to sell wedding cakes. And vacations to Waikiki.

Josh will begin disappearing into a future where the only place he and I remain friends is on the Internet.

Why would anyone say this stuff about themselves on the Internet? It's crazy!

And here he is again, yet things feel like they'll never be as easy between us as they once were.

I swear, guys in groups are capable of the stupidest things." "Like war," Kellan says, heaping napkins and ketchup packets onto her tray. "And jumping off rooftops." "And lighting their farts on fire," she says.

Josh turns to me. “I can’t believe she’s writing these things.” “Not she,” I say. “Me.” “Why would anyone say this stuff about themselves on the Internet? It’s crazy!” “Exactly,” I say. “I’m going to be mentally ill in fifteen years, and that’s why my husband doesn’t want to be around me.

And what if in the future we're at war again, or we still haven't elected a non-white or non-male president, or the Rolling Stones are still dragging their tired old butts on stage? That would depress me way too much.

I didn't humiliate him by pointing it out because that's not how you treat friends. You don't judge them. You don't humiliate them. I bet he's been judging me all along.

Trust me, not every girl would give up his sweatshirt just because a girl asks.

Those are some strong currents you're swimming against.

There are also the people too bizarre to ignore, like Kyle Simpson. Future male stripper.

I tried getting my dad to buy me a beeper for my birthday,” he says, “but he thinks only doctors and drug dealers need them.

With her fingers running back up my arms, and all this sperm talk, things are getting a little too intense down below. I lean slightly forward, conveniently placing my forearms across my lap.

She smiles and hugs him goodbye, her hand lingering on the small of his back. They are definitely going to have sex.

Good for her, I guess. Cody's a conceited dick, but whatever makes her happy.

As she does, she turns her hand over, lacing her fingers into mine. For as many nerve endings as I thought I had in my hand, I now realize there are a hundred times more.