I'm a man without a country. Or I'm a man with too many countries-you pick. Ultimately, in both global politics and the high school power hierarchy, they amount to the same thing.
Then he leaned over, right there in the restaurant parking lot, and kissed me. And it wasn’t a friendship kiss, either. It was tender and real, and utterly romantic.
I kept my eyes closed until I felt my resolve to be who I wanted to be come back. I couldn’t stay this desperate. It wouldn’t look good to people watching from the outside.
I hadn’t gone to one dance in my entire high school career. I was six foot tall and a hundred and twenty pounds. When I danced, I looked like a praying mantis on fire.
Friedrich Nietzsche got pretty hung up on the notion of human will; really all he needed were some running shoes, Lycra and a place in the Berlin Marathon.
It is a universally acknowledged truth that high school sucks. In fact, high school is where we are first introduced to the basic existential question of life: How is it possible to exist in a place that sucks so bad?
It's hard to imagine which is worse, living with fear, or living without it in a fantasyland were consequences don't exist.
We offer love to our customers. And in return, we receive the finest smiles. And even if we cannot return their affection, at least we can offer a rose.
Mr. Sagunuma: We can never escape who we are. Instead of wasting time worrying about it, why don't you cut to he chase and love yourself?
Kyoya: I don't like this food. But do you think I'd be so inhuman as to complain after you treated me? That's a rude assumption.
The Mile High City has mile-high expectations. That’s 5,280 feet, you know. That’s five millipedes and 2.8 centipedes for all you lovers out there.
I’m in my junior year but I can’t take it anymore. The beige walls, the scent of linoleum and used lockers, the shrill bell between classes. High school is sucking the life out of me.
I thought about how all that mattered, in all entirety, and all I wanted, and all I could see anything being worth anything for, was being a writer.
Your life matters. Your life has purpose. You were put on this earth to capitalize on your strengths and achieve your destiny.
The sky was like ebony and the only illumination was the harsh white light of the central streetlamp, which cast shadows so hard it seemed you might cut yourself on them.
You're right. The details of your hopeless quest to sacrifice your individuality on the altar of Chromatic betterment is about as exciting to me as pulling clodworms out of the juniors.
Chromatacia…society…ruled by a colortocracy…social hierarchy based upon one's limited color perception, society is dominated by color. In this world, you are what you can see.
To the untrained eye, Ben had nothing, at least by the bizarre rules that governed high school. But really, Ben was one of the few who wasn't pretending, one of the few who was free.
The kind of teacher who never learned anything herself. Or taught anything, except sarcasm or fear.
In high school, I was convinced I had super powers. Well, just one really. I was sure I had the gift of invisibility. But nobody saw how super I was, because nobody saw me.
At some point I was a Happy African Feminist Who Does Not Hate Men and Who Likes to Wear Lip Gloss and High Heels for Herself and Not For Men.
