Beatrice Sparks Quotes
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I can't believe that I changed so little. I expected to look old and hollow and gray, but I guess it's only me on the inside that has shriveled and deteriorated.
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This morning when I left Mom's parting words were, "Come straight home after school." Wow! Like I'm going to get stoned at 3:30—it doesn't sound so bad at that.
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When I’m with him, everything makes so much sense…when I’m away, it’s so much shit.
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I’m really cracking. No, I’m beyond cracking. I’m shattered. I’m lost. I’m fragmented.
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I bet the pill is harder to get than drugs--which shows how screwed up this world really is!
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Judas, boredom is such a drag, drag, drag. Writing might be good therapy for me, though.
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I hope they never have to go through the kind of soul searching that I am going through.
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It’s a terrible thing but it seems like tragedy brings people together, makes them more supportive, more dependent.
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They don’t think “I care,” “I hurt,” or “I have feelings.” It just seems like I’m always “wrong,” always “selfish,” always “self-centered” and everything else that’s negative and destructive.
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I know I was drugged but that is still no excuse. Why do they want to do things like that?
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I looked at sky this morning and realized summer is almost gone which really made me sad because it doesn't seem as though its been here at all.
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I wanted to ask God to help me but I could utter only words, dark, useless words which fell on the floor beside me and rolled off into the corners and underneath the bed.
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You can’t do anything to please anybody or say anything to please them or even dress so they’ll be happy and give you a smile.
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It all seems so permanent, so old and new at the same time. But I wonder if I will ever feel completely new again. Or will I spend the rest of my life feeling like a walking disease?
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I'm afraid to hope but I can't help it, and the idea of hoping in this most hopeless of all places makes me want to cry.
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They have accepted me as an individual, as a personality, as an entity. I belong! I am important! I am somebody!
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I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books.
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We are all in natural high, It was better than dope or booze or anything.
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How is it possible for me to be so miserable and embarrassed and humiliated and beaten an function still talk and smile and concentrate?
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She didn't know whether she was running away from something or running to something, but she admitted that deep in her heart she wanted to go home.
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Alone. The saddest word in the world.
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The complete bottom has fallen out of my life.
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Why so much hate in your mind when love is the only way to straighten things out?
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I wanted to tell them! I wanted more than anything in the world to know that they understood, but naturally they just kept on talking and talking because they are incapable of really understanding anything. If only parents would listen! If only they would let us talk instead of forever and eternally and continuously harping and preaching and nagging and correcting and yacking, yacking, yacking! But they won’t listen! They simply won’t or can’t or don’t want to listen, and we kids keep winding up back in the same old frustrating, lost, lonely corner with no one to relate to either verbally or physically.