Instead of eating too much, I’m thinking too much and I need to throw up some of these thoughts before something vile happens.

I’m not worried about the future as much as I’m worried about the past. About keeping my memories real and not sacrificing them to match the present.

I am pondering the paper cut on my knuckle. This is not an education. I am in daycare.

Chemistry makes me hate myself. I think there is something wrong in letting a child live fourteen or fifteen years believing that everything is so easy and that she'll never really have to try at anything 'cause she's so naturally talented.

Sometimes I feel ashamed and stupid for all the times I laughed at teenage love and now look at me. I'm a glowing example. I am the demonstration. I am the diagram and charts. I'm all the sappy words and sugary feelings and there's no diffrence. None. And evreyone I ridiculed is throwing tomatoes at me! Sometimes the boys and girls walking down the hall together holding hands or making out against a locker make me want to scream. But I can't because I am just as bad as them.

There is nothing special about falling in love. This is habit, this is routine, this is a learned natural ability.

No one cares. Apathy is a disease and some days I long for it.

Besides, I always feel safer when I've got words against my heart.

sometimes every word i write is 'love' but the letters are rearranged, the sounds are different. all the words are red.

I think the only necessary conclusion is that we are too beautiful, because being not beautiful at all just doesn't make sense.