There is no hatred in my love for you. Only a sadness I feel all the more strongly for my inability to explain or describe it.

I'd tell you all you want and more, if the sounds I made could be what you hear

What teachers and the administration in that era never seemed to see was that the mental work of what they called daydreaming often required more effort and concentration than it would have taken simply to listen in class. Laziness is not the issue. It is just not the work dictated by the administration.

I had, by thirteen, developed a sort of Taoist hubris about my ability to control via non-control.

In reality, there is no such thing as not voting: you either vote by voting, or you vote by staying home and tacitly doubling the value of some Diehard's vote.

That sometimes human beings have to just sit in one place and, like, hurt. That you will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realize how seldom they do. That there is such a thing as raw, unalloyed, agendaless kindness. That it is possible to fall asleep during an anxiety attack. That concentrating on anything is very hard work.

People, unless they're paying attention, tend to confuse fanciness with intelligence or authority.