It's the intent, not the word, that makes something harsh.

It's just the end of some things. And the beginning of others.

The thought of being with Shay Wilder makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a butter knife

Time to stop crying, time to get her act together and do something. Time to move beyond the pity party.

They linger near the back door, forehead to forehead and curved like statues as their lips whisper and brush together.

That was the goth stage, where I decided I'd never get the girl of my dreams because of my scars. Not to mention my hairstyle. (pause) But then she slammed a door handle into my gut. And when a girl does that to a boy, it means she likes him.

Janies lips part in surprise. She takes it. Feels really strange about opening it in front of him. She wets her lips and examines the box and the ribbon that surounds it. "Thank you." She says softly. "Um..." He clears his throat, "The gift, see is actually inside the box. The box is like an extra bonus gift.It's how we do things here on planet Earth.