The good ones put your character to the flame and burn away all the rest of the shit until you come out a better you.

I'm thinking skywriting. 'Sorry I was an asshat. Please forgive my stupid butt.

Fate is for the weak--those people who don't have enough power or will to shape life into what they need it to be.

In the vast void, her kiss tells me I’m not alone. She touches her tongue to mine, and a groan slips out. I think it comes from me. I’m dizzy and breathless and full of strange emotions that I can’t make sense of and don’t want to. I know the gist. I’m happy. This is a high I’ve never been able to achieve through pills or booze or other people.

Then he launches himself at me with a roar, and I let him take his shot. It’s weak, like he is. Like all bullies really are. That’s why they’re bullies. Because they’re insecure idiots who try to make themselves feel better.

But I do care. I hate myself for it, but I can’t fight this desperate need to try. Try to fit in. Try to make this school experience different than all the previous ones.