I refuse to let the past find me here.

Instead, I try to adjust to the dawn, letting the tears fall where they may, because it is morning; it is morning and there is so much to see.

We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else. To spend time trying to change that, well, it's like chasing clouds.

I want to ask him if it’s possible that a girl can be born unlovable, or does she just become that way?

We're in English class, which for most of us is an excruciating exercise in staying awake through the great classics of literature. These works - groundbreaking, incendiary, timeless - have been pureed by the curriculum monsters into a digestible pabulum of themes and factoids we can spew back on a test. Scoring well on tests is the sort of happy thing that gets the school district the greenbacks they crave. Understanding and appreciating the material are secondary.

Maybe girls need an island to find themselves. Maybe they need a place where no one's is watching them so they can be who they really are

I do not want to pass the time. I want to grab hold of it and leave my mark upon the world.