Elizabeth Scott Quotes
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Look at me. We aren´t them lauren. You´re not your mother or father any more than I´m my mother. You´re you and I´m me and I love you.
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Like a heart, and I wish mine wasn't beating.
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All the things I've thought about love are true. It's beautiful and terrible and it doesn't make things perfect. It ends things, and it brings beginnings. This is mine.
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love is...you get confused and you do stuff you don't mean to do-and you just-you hate yourself and sometimes you don't even want to love the person you do because it would be so much easier if you didn't.But you just-you just do.
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Friends. Strange indeed. There's just so much at risk, including my heart and mental stability - which are both still extremely fragile. I'm getting better but my heart still aches for you. I'm also having a hard time dealing with the fear. I don't want to be sad anymore. I don't want to cry, worry, or be scared anymore. I just wish I could feel free and happy again. If I can't talk to you at all, it's unbearable. If I talk to you too much, it's unbearable. It doesn't leave much. I want us both to be happy. I just want everything to be okay for you and me. I don't want anyone else to hurt. I feel like I've hurt enough for everyone. I've cried enough tears to fill everyone's bucket.
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I always wanted to be grown up. When I was little I couldn’t wait to be a teenager and go to high school. When I got there I wanted to be done with it, wanted to get out into the world, the real one, and live in it. The thing is, that world doesn’t exist. All growing up means is that you realize no one will come along to fix things. No one will come along to save you.
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Things... well, things suck sometimes. And sometimes you can fix it. And sometimes you can't. It's just the way it is.
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I see it in his eyes, he has eyes you can see everything in, and I say, "Morgan," my voice as quiet as the ghost I am supposed to be.
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The thing is you can get used to anything you think you cant you want to die but you dont you cant you just are.
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I lied to Julia, I didn't know what else to do because you - you make me feel..." I had to stop. Not because I didn't have words. I did. But I was afraid to say them. He looked at me, and I knew then I could love him. That if I let myself I would. "You make me feel too," he said, and held out one hand.
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Grace is my favourite church word. A state of being. Something you can pray for. Something God can grant. Something you can obtain. Perfection is out of reach. But grace -- grace you can reach for.
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You,I think. I am terrified of you. Of how your kindness makes me like you in spite of myself. Of how you make me dream things I haven't dreamed in forever. You,I think. But I don't say it.
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My mother taught me to believe in silver, to believe in things, but I think it's more important to believe in me.
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I don’t think I could have picked a worse guy to be my soul mate.
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I deserved the shaking and the headaches and the fact that every single time I took a breath I felt a squeezing in my chest, my heart beating even though I wished it wasn't.
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Try to live. Try to be happy. Things end, people leave, and life goes on. You need the bad things to feel the good ones.
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There are a million rules for being a girl. There are a million things you have to do to get through each day. High school has things that can trip you up, ruin you, people say one thing and mean another, and you have to know all the rules, you have to know what you can and can't do.
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I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t think he’d ever really notice me, and in the end, he didn’t.
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How can I remember a world that isn't mine? One that isn't the one I wake up in every day now?
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I suppose he's making a real fashion statement, but this is high school. You're not supposed to be real. You're supposed to be enough like everyone else to get through and out into the waiting world.
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Then I heard someone laugh. I wished I didn't know whose laugh it was, but I knew Will's laugh just like I knew he had a small scar right above his left elbow. You couldn't be reluctantly lust-ridden for someone without noticing stuff about them.
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She has no idea who I am, not really. She's just someone who's noticed me because the video and she'll forget what she's said before the day is over. Me? Not so much, but I go on, my legs shaking and a mix of anger and despair burning inside me.
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This death expert said it's everything underground that makes grass so green. That dead things make the living. I want to lie down on the bench then, or better yet, on the grass, rest on something living and see if I can hear the dead underneath.
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I wants us to be real. I want to be just you and me.