Stephen Chbosky

I sat down and tried to write a story."Ian MacArthur is a wonderful sweet fellow who wears glasses and peers out of them with delight."That was the first sentence. The problem was that I just couldn't think of the next one. After cleaning my room three times, I decided to leave Ian alone for a while because I was starting to get mad at him.

I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn't try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have. I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with people even if they could have. I need to know that these people exist.

Incidentally, I only have one cavity, and as much as my dentist asks me to, I just can't bring myself to floss.

Patrick actually used to be popular before Sam bought him some good music.

What about when someone doesn't need a shoulder? What if they need the arms?

If somebody likes me, I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am.

To tell you the truth, I've just been avoiding everything. I walk around the school hallways and look at the people. I look at the teachers and wonder why they're here. If they like their jobs. Or us. And I wonder how smart they were when they were fifteen. Not in a mea way. In a curious way. it's like looking at all the students and wondering who's had their heart broken that da, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes and a book report on top of that. or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why. Especially since I know that if they went to another school, the person who had their heart broken would have had their heart broken by somebody else, so why does it have to be so personal? And if I went to another school, I would never have known Sam or Patrick or Mary Elizabeth or anyone except my family. (Pg 142)

And then he says something like this ... "I would die for you. But I won't live for you." Something like that. I think the idea is that every person has to live for his or her own life and then make the choice to share it with other people.

If you care about somebody, you should want them to be happy. Even if you wind up being left out.

Sam and Patrick looked at me. And I looked at them. And I think they knew. Not anything specific really. They just knew. And I think that's all you can ever ask from a friend.

Girls like guys to be a challenge. It gives them some mold to fit in how they act. Like a mom. What would a mom do if she couldn't fuss over you and make you clean your room? And what would you do without her fussing and making you do it? Everyone needs a mom. And a mom knowns this. And it gives her a sense of purpose. You get it?

I feel infinite.

I would die for you. But I won't live for you.

I hate you.'My sister said it different than she said it to my dad. She meant it with me. She really did.'I love you,' was all I could say in return.

On Friday night, I was reading my new book, but my brain got tired, so I decided to watch some television instead.

I hate you."I love you."You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have."I'm trying not to be.

And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but it isn't.

I just hope I remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as I look in my old photographs. And I hope that they believe me.