I walk around the school hallways and look at the people. I look at the teachers and wonder why they're here. If they like their jobs. Or us. And I wonder how smart they were when they were fifteen. Not in a mean way. In a curious way. It's like looking at all the students and wondering who's had their heart broken that day, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes and a book report due on top of that. Or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why.

Movies, by nature, are not subjective, they're objective.

I don't think we should base so much on weight, muscles, and a good hair day, but when it happens, it's nice. It really is.

And I wonder if anyone is really happy. I hope they are. I really hope they are.

Maybe he didn’t really encourage me to do things, but he didn’t prevent me from doing them either. But after a while, I didn’t do things because I didn’t want him to think different about me. But the thing is, I wasn’t being honest. So, why would I care whether or not he loved me when he didn’t really even know me?

Most of the people I know who were raised to be accommodating or were raised to just be nice and put everybody's needs ahead of theirs, there comes a moment when the pressure builds and they can't do it anymore. They have needs and they feel neglected and they usually explode.

I don't know how much longer I can keep going without a friend. I used to be able to do it very easily, but that was before I knew what having a friend was like.