Intelligence is not measured by how much you know, but by how much you have the capacity to learn.

Sometimes I think people take reality for granted.

I am real. This”–he put his other hand over the first-“is real. You see me interacting with other people all day long, don’t you? I talk to people; I affect things in the world. I cause things to happen. I am real.”“But-but what if this whole place”-I had to suck in air again-“what if everything is inside my head? East Shoal and Scarlet and this bridge and you-what if you’re not real because nothing is real?”“If nothing’s real, then what does it matter?” he said. “You live here. Doesn’t that make it real enough?

If nothing’s real, then what does it matter?” he said. “You live here. Doesn’t that make it real enough?

It kind of felt like she was kicking me in the gut, and every kick

I do have friends. Maybe they live hundreds of miles away from me, and maybe I can only talk to them through a screen, but they're still my friends.

Did you meet your soul mate? That always happens on the first day of school, right?''Oh God, Charlie, she's letting you read again! You went straight to the paranormal section, didn't you?

What you loved as a child, you will love forever

I was the big sister. I was supposed to set and example and lead the way so people would say, 'Hey, you're Alex's sister, aren't you? You two look exactly alike!' instead of 'Hey, you're Alex's sister, aren't you? Are you crazy, too?'The only example I was ever going to set for her was to always check her food before she ate it.

I realized everyone around me was wearing a uniform. Black pants, white button-down shirts, green ties. Gotta love the smell of institutional equality in the morning.

Believing something existed and then finding out it didn't was like reaching the top of the stairs and thinking there was one more step.

I didn't have the luxury of taking reality for granted. And I wouldn't say I hated people who did, because that's just about everyone. I didn't hate them. They didn't live in my world. But that never stopped me from wishing I lived in theirs.

I was a schizophrenic, not a damn invalid.

The rest of the year, I wondered if the point of Christmas was just spending money and getting fat and opening gifts. Indulging.But when Christmas finally comes, and that warm, tingly, mints-and-sweaters-and-fireplace-fires feeling gathers in the bottom of your stomach, and you're lying on the floor with all the lights off but the ones on the Christmas tree, and listening to the silence of the snow falling outside, you see the point. For that one instance in time, everything is good in the world. It doesn't matter if everything isn't actually good. It's the one time of the year when pretending is enough.

Mile's fingers pressed into the small of my back. "Basorexia," he mumbled."Gesundheit."He laughed. "It's an overwhelming desire to kiss.""I thought you weren't good at figuring out what you felt.""I'm probably using the word in the wrong context. But I'm pretty sure that's what this is.

People say teenagers think they're immortal, and I agree with that. But I think there's a difference between thinking you're immortal and knowing you can survive. Thinking you're immortal leads to arrogance, thinking you deserve the best. Surviving means having the worst thrown at you and being able to continue on despite that. It means striving for what you want most, even when it seems our of your reach, even when everything is working against you.

Broken people don't hide from their monsters. Broken people let themselves be eaten.