135 Quotes by Julie Buxbaum

You match, you know? Your outsides and your insides are beautiful,” David says, and he throws one arm stiffly over my shoulder. The movement is awkward and clumsy and because of this awkwardness and clumsiness—not despite it—I’m charmed.

Tears are kind of like urine. There is only so long you can hold them in.

Because if I'm going to spend at least seventy-five percent of my waking hours doing something, I want that something to have meaning. I am tired of wasting my time. I am starting to realize that I want my life to matter in every way that it can.

Instead she has on a sweater that looks soft, the kind when I was a kid I would stop and pet whenever my mom forced me to go shopping.

I spend the first week after screwing everything up with Kit too ashamed to do anything except write her a stupid text. I keep it short, limit it to the words I know can’t be the wrong ones: I’m sorry. I don’t trust myself not to make a bigger mess of things by saying more. Whenever I pick up the phone to text again, I freeze up with anxiety. I don’t feel like I deserve the chance to explain. I don’t even deserve to share the same air moleculesas Kit.

You’re saying that on Friday night I have an equal chance of getting vomited on as I do of getting kissed?”“Welcome to high school.” What to say next

Email is much like an ADD diagnosis. Guaranteed extra time on the test.

My dad and I both refuse to patronize the number-one-ranked Curryland, despite the statistical significance of the additional seven five-star reviews in their favor, because as a rule we avoid restaurants that rely on a theme, especially one as nonsensical as pretending that each customer is a tourist in a mythical place called Curryland.

There’s something quiet about you. For example, if you were a radiowave, you’d have your very own wavelength. That’s isolating, I think, because I don’t think everyone can hear you