And we'd look at each other the way you do when you see someone on the street you think you recognize, but not quite. Someone you wish with all your heart were there but who is actually just a stranger. And you feel a kind of deep longing that hurts like a huge gash and your inability to fix it leaves you frustrated and angry and bone-deep lonely.

Thinking, not for the first time, that life should come with a trapdoor. Just a little exit hatch you could disappear through when you´d utterly and completely mortified yourself. Or when you had spontaneous zit eruptions. “Good book?” he asked, taking it from her and reading the subtitle, “A Guide for Good Girls Who (Sometimes) Want to Be Bad,” out loud. But life did not come with a trapdoor.

i never thought of it before, but with your height and build, you are going to look SO CUTE in your straitjacket.

I didn't mean to interupt you if you were looking for your friends Miss--' 'Callihan,' but you can call my Jasmine. Or Jas.' Or Snookums. Honeybunch. Hotsie Totsie Cowgirl. My Little-- 'It's nice to meet you Jasmine, I'm Jack.

talking to yourself again, jas? yes, it beats talking to you. oh, time machine back to first grade much? only to visit your brain.

little life lesson 23: before making a snide comment about someone else's outfit, check to see if you're wearing knee boots with fringe. if you answer yes, drop it. just do.

I was thinking that maybe when everything around you changed all the time, it was nice to know that something would always be the same