Most Terrifying Words In The English Language:
“I’ll stop by so we can talk about this week and shit.”
I'm the book that beat the speed-reader, and I'm the card the dealers won't touch. And it's just not true I'm a man-eater; all the same, we should probably go dutch.
The things you pick up as you go.
I am not afraid to admit to my own faults and shortcomings, and this in turn is what makes me so strong where others are weak.
Remember, the moment you can’t admit to yourself that you are wrong, you will never again be able to be right.
You know how you usually have your most bizarre dreams while you’re sick? Well, last night, I had a dream in which I met Twig while he was doing a cross-country road-trip. (Eh, close enough.) Everything was lovely until we had some sort of falling-out when his (imaginary) cousin walked in on me in his bathroom and told me I wasn’t good enough for him. (Tell me something else I don’t know.) We fought, and he took off on a motorcycle and got into a horrific crash. I rush to see him at the hospital, but security won’t let me in. It turns out Twig was part of a world-famous boy-band (excuse me for a minute— HAHAHAhahaHAHAHAhahaHAHAHAAA!!!), and the hospital he was in was being SWARMED by prepubescent pre-teens all wailing miserably for their fallen hero. They assume that I am a distraught fan, lying about my friendship with him, and the evil cousin lets them keep that assumption. So I’m stuck outside, wanting desperately to see him and apologize for everything, having to Google for information about his condition, watching as they let other people in, like Dessa. (Of course Dessa gets in.) And then he DIES.
I woke up panting like I’d just run a 100-meter dash, with my bed sheets destroyed and twisted all around myself, clinging to George, my body pillow, like he was a life raft.
Horrible. Horrible, horrible, horrible. And I got this bloody cold from him!
I am not watching the footage.
I am not watching the footage because I am not going to give you sick fucks behind it the satisfaction of my horror, fear, and outrage, which I can only guess are the emotions you wanted to pull from millions of us and gorge yourselves on. There will be no notoriety at what you have done for me. I will not be forced to stand witness to your misguided attempt at catch the nation’s eyes and bated breaths. You will never force acknowledgement from me, and so, your plot will have failed. I refuse to give you a moment’s thought out of the day. I refuse to acknowledge who you are, or what you “accomplished.”
Instead, I look toward the families and friends of those effected, and in them, I find the awe and my feeling of helplessness at their strength and power. Whoever you are…You will not be allowed to defeat us with fear.