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Your past is always your past. Even if you forget it, it remembers you.
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You know the minute you stop thinking about it, it'll happen.
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I got back in my car, starting the engine, then drove off. It wasn't until I pulled onto the highway that it all really sunk it, how temporary our friendship had been. We'd been on our breaks, after all, but it wasn't our relationships that were on pause: it was us. Now we were both in motion again, moving ahead. So what if there were questions left unanswered. Life went on. We knew that better than anyone.
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So I just decided to relax into it, bumpy and crazy as it might be, and try for once to just go along for the ride.
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“In Truth,” I said, “there are no rules other than you have to tell the truth.” “How do you win?” he asked. “That,” I said, “is such a boy question.
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Each time, I think I'm never going to write another book. It never gets easier.
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If you could just be nice, then you wouldn't have to worry about arguments at all. but being nice wasn't as easy as it seemed, especially when the rest of the world could be so mean.
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In Anger Management,' he said,'we had to do all this role-playing stuff. You know, to get used to handling things in a less volatile way.' 'You role-played,' I said, trying to picture this. 'I had to. It was court-ordered.
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With my mom, when someone was gone, they were gone. She didn't waste another minute thinking about them, and neither should you.
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Listen,"Kristy said," the truth is,nothing is guranteed. You know better than anybody." She looked at me hard,making sure I knew what she meant.I did."So don't be afraid.Be alive.
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Clearly, sharing something could take you a long way, or at least to a different place than you'd planned. Like a friendship or a family, or even jsut alone on a curb on a Saturday, trying to get your bearings as best you can.
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It was such a weird thing how a breakup stretched much wider than you expected. You didn't just lose a person, but their entire world as well.
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Fall in love with someone who truly deserves your heart. Not with someone who plays with it.
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I remembered Owen telling me how music had saved him in Phoenix, that it drowned everything out, and it was the same for me now. As long as I had something to listen to, I could blur the things I didn't want to think about, if not block them out completely.
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But those words were only the middle of the story. There was a beginning here, too.
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It wasn’t so much that I was positive. I just wasn’t fully subscribing to such a negative way of thinking anymore.
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I thought of all the times we'd been together, how I kept coming closer, then retreating, while he stayed right where he was. A constant in a world where few, if any, really existed.
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Look. We both know life is short, Macy. Too short to waste a single second with anyone who doesn't appreciate and value you.
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Just because someone's pretty, doesn't mean she's decent.
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But in the real world, you couldnt really just split a family down the middle, mom on one side, dad the other, with the child equally divided between. It was like when you ripped a piece of paper into two: no matter how you tried, the seams never fit exactly right again. It was what you couldn't see, those tiniest of pieces, that were lost in the severing, and their absence kept everything from being complete.
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I've seen what commitment leads to. Going in is the easy part. It's the ending that sucks! -Remy
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It's always been hard to call myself a writer. I think a part of me still thinks it's too good to be true.
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All I'd wanted for so long was for someone to explain everything that had happened to me in this same way. To label it neatly on a page: this leads to this leads to this.
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Life isn't fair," Owen told her. "Get used to it.