I wanted to explode, to pull my ribs apart and let the sun inside.

Inside the snow globe on my father's desk, there was a penguin wearing a red-and-white-striped scarf. When I was little my father would pull me into his lap and reach for the snow globe. He would turn it over, letting all the snow collect on the top, then quickly invert it. The two of us watched the snow fall gently around the penguin. The penguin was alone in there, I thought, and I worried for him. When I told my father this, he said, "Don't worry, Brenda; he has a nice life. He's trapped in a perfect world.

my horn went beep beep beep

Today was like any other. People filled in around me happy as they ever were, giggling and laughing, while I keep a content smile on my face hoping for the day to just go good. In a world of complete insanity I look to you for answers. You make me feel that the world isn't just a complete and utter waste. This world is full of backstabbers and lairs. People who think they are just too good for you, or people who talk about you to make themselves look better. And in the middle of all that all I need is you, to look at me with that little smile and stare and then look away. Knowing that for that one split second I was on somebody's mind today for the right reasons. I know it was only for a split second but that's all it took for me to make my whole day happy again. 

and maybe the birds are singing about you

Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. 

Do not let the pain make you hate. 

Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. 

Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, 

you still believe it to be a beautiful place.

you're all just crows on power lines.

Four characteristics constitute anyone who possesses them a sheer hypocrite, and anyone who possesses one of them possesses a characteristic of hypocrisy till she abandons it: when she is trusted she betrays her trust, when she talks she lies, when she makes a covenant she acts treacherously and when she quarrels she abuses.

you're as old as you feel.

What they don't understand about birthdays and what they never tell

you is that when you're eleven, you're also ten, and nine, and eight, and

seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you

wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don't.

You open your eyes and everything's just like yesterday, only it's today. And

you don't feel eleven at all. You feel like you're still ten. And you are --

underneath the year that makes you eleven.

Like some days you might say something stupid, and that's the part of

you that's still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your

mama's lap because you're scared, and that's the part of you that's five.

And maybe one day when you're all grown up maybe you will need to cry like

if you're three, and that's okay. 

Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings

inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the

other, each year inside the next one. That's how being eleven years old is.

Don't criticize what you can't understand

And then I felt sad because I realized that once people
are broken in certain ways, it may take forever to fix.
and this is something nobody ever tells you when you
are young and it never fails to surprise you as you
grow older and see the people in your life break one by
one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it's already happened.

Accept what people offer. Drink their milkshakes. Take their love.

I would rather be poor in a cottage full of books than a king without the desire to read.

The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - that you’d thought special, particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you’ve never met. Maybe even someone long dead. And it’s as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.

If all the snowflakes were candy bars and milkshakes...

The sun comes out; it melts the snow that fell yesterday. Makes you wonder why it bothered.

Come for the week, you can sleep in my bed.
And pass through my life like a dream
through my head. It will be easy.
I’ll make it easy.

for the 12 years I had getting to know you

i am thankful.

I feel guilty for wanting to avoid the sadness, dead people need us to remember them, even if it eats us, even if all we can do is say “I am sorry”, until its as meaningless as air.

hey driver, to to top of the world!

If you’re reading this…congratulations, you’re alive. If that’s not something to smile about, I don’t know what is.