Because love, love is never finished. It circles and circles, the memories out of order and not always complete.
I wonder how you’re supposed to know the exact moment when there’s no more hope.
Okay, then, what was he like? Just give me something to go on so that I have a shot at him!”A shot at him? Are you on an elk hunt?
Is that the destiny of all friendships, no matter how good they are? To die out or fade away? To end?
No one measures a life in weeks and days. You measure life in years and by the things that happen to you.
That’s how you know you really trust someone, I think; when you don’t have to talk all the time to make sure they still like you or prove that you have interesting stuff to say.
When the remembering was done, the forgetting could begin.
It’s as if once you hit high school, you’re programmed, like a robot, to be an asshole to your parents.
the past only had whatever power you gave it; life was what you made it and if you wanted something different from what you had, it was up to you to make it happen.
I had them all fooled into believing I was normal and well-adjusted, a rock of sensibility who could always be counted on to have a positive attitude.
Katy skipped over, her low-rise jeans threatening to fall off her skinny hips. With some girls, that was a sexy look. With Katy, it made you nervous.
I wouldn’t say I’m stuck in my adolescence, but I think, like a lot of people, I carry my teen years with me. I feel really in touch with those feelings, and how intense and complicated life seems in those years.