Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.
Miracles don't happen. You make them happen. They're not wishes or dreams or candles on a cake. They're not impossible. Reality is real. It's totally and completely under my control.
What's the point of living if you don't belong anywhere?
And it’s more. It’s about getting past that question of whats wrong with me, to knowing there’s nothing wrong, that you were born this way. You're a normal person and a beautiful person and you should be proud of who you are. You deserve to live and live with dignity and show people your pride.
Me? I had no dreams. No longings. Dreams only set you up for disappointment. Plus, you had to have a life to have dreams of a better life.
His eyes are like a telescope. I look into them and I'm transported across the universe to a world I've never been.
Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.
Girls scare me more than boys. Boys are cruel. Girls are mean.
What can happen in a few minutes changes you forever.
Sometimes I'd catch myself looking at my reflection in windows and wonder who I was. Where I was going. Then the image would change and it wouldn't be me, just some nebulous shadow person.
What you see, isn't always what you get
...the man of my dreams is a girl.
She responds by kissing me harder and longer and deeper. She loves me too. She's just afraid.
But I'm no hero. I had to keep my dirty little secret. The worst sin I committed was holding it in; letting the secret blacken me.
I close my eyes and black out the day. The exhaustion of living through it, surviving.
Is that all I am? A friend?" "Of course not," I say. "I love you." "Am I the only one?" she asks. "Yes. Completely." First, last, and always.
I have no intent. I have no reason to live, that's all. When I'm gone, I don't want to be remembered.
...When I asked [my dad why the sky was blue] he said it was because God's a boy. If God were a girl, the sky would be pink. 'What about sunrise and sunset?' I'd asked. Dad had looked dumbfounded. 'You kids. You think too much.' It frightened me how shallow the gene pool was that Liam and I were wading in.
Who will see you through the darkness? "Me," I key in the answer. "I'll find my own way.
Stop trying to save me. You couldn't then; you can't now.
But she never just accepted me for the way I was.
What was I afraid of, exactly? What other people would think? I guess, a little. But that wasn't what was stopping me from acting on my feelings. It was the intensity of them. The desire for her. I knew if I gave into it, I'd have to surrender myself completely. I'd lose all control. Everything I knew, everything I was, the walls I'd built up to protect myself all these years would come crashing down. I might get lost in the rubble. Yet, she made me feel alive in a way I'd only ever imagined I could feel. Bells, whistles, music.
What did she see in me? What does she see that I don't?
Yet, when we talked, when we were together, she seemed so familiar. Seemed to know who I was, where I was coming from. She knew me better than I knew myself, I think. She was easy to be with. And I wanted to be with her, like all the time.
People don't change. There are two kinds of people in the world: winners and losers. Black and white. I don't know where gray fits in, or if you can even live in that shade.
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