Holding Eleanor's hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something complete, and completely alive.
Can't you just like a girl who likes you back?' 'None of them likes me back. I may as well like the one I really want.
Well my music was different in high school; I was singing about love—you know, things I don't care about anymore.
There are a million rules for being a girl. There are a million things you have to do to get through each day. High school has things that can trip you up, ruin you, people say one thing and mean another, and you have to know all the rules, you have to know what you can and can't do.
High School. Society’s bright idea to put all their aggressive, naive youth into one environment to torment and emotionally scar each other for life.
For the record, I would like to point out that it is NOT being obsessive to memorize a boy's schedule so that you can accidentally bump into him. It is called being efficient.
The truth doesn't get you very far on the streets, or in a group home, or even in high school. That's probably why the idea of Liars, Inc. appealed to me. Everybody lies. You might as well get paid for it.
I reached down and picked up a baseball bat at my feet and I flung it as hard as it could. It circled and arced high in the air until it slammed against the side of the dining hall with a crack and fell. I sat down in the dirt. Then I lay down in the dirt. Because not only was there no trail to follow, there was no evidence he’d ever been here. There was no evidence any of them had been here.
In high school she even had time for herself, to draw and read, to write down quotes, to be inside her own head without an agenda.
After all, the only thing harder than allowing yourself to care is pretending that you don't.
Because some girls don't just fall down; some fall from grace.
But all good things must come to an end—and I hear the greatest things tend to end quicker than they started.
Perhaps the only thing worse than learning a secret is being kept from you is knowing you aren't the type to let it go.
But that's the tricky thing about love. If you aren't the type to walk away, and you aren't the kind of person who moves on quickly, you subsequently become the one who stays.
Because every decision impacts everything that follows. Especially the wrong ones.
Some secrets are never supposed to be discovered. But if you're real lucky, when you're least expecting it, the most incriminating secrets will show themselves.
Love can lie too.
Sometimes, things just happen. Things that will change everything. Things that change you.
But that's the funny thing about love. Sometimes love can be deceiving. And sometimes, in the worst cases, love isn't love at all.
We had a class called Theory of Knowledge, taught by a Catholic family man we later found out was strongly attracted to little boys… so I guess the point of the class was you don’t know shit. The past few years, I found out that there’s Neurogenesis, which means we *do* make new brain cells. And I found out about Epigenetics, which basically means Lamarck was more right than Darwin… so that does away with a lot of shit I still remember from science classes from not too long ago. I read books that show the Jews did 911 (not Osama) and a guy named McPherson keeps telling us that we’re all gonna die in a few years anyway. Make each day count…