Adorable, some might say.

(via bowtieatthedisco)

I swung up, vertically, the way you don’t usually swing things. The hit was solid, like the right answer to a test. His eyes widened and his jaw crackled; I watched his mouth as he coughed up blood, tasted it. He stepped back into the shade, then forward again. Dark, light, dark, light. My mallet followed him exactly, waiting for another clear shot, but I wasn’t worried. I had plenty of time. The thrill of cold night air swarmed around me like something I was riding, something I could control. For the first time that night I was having fun. It was the biggest event of the year. A day to be remembered—a famous day.

(Source: gretainthewild)

I’m not different. I’m not arty like everyone says who doesn’t know me. I don’t paint, I can’t draw, I play no instrument, I can’t sing. I’m not in plays, I wanted to say, I don’t write poems. I can’t dance except tipsy at dances..I like movies, everyone knows I do — I love them — but I will never be in charge of one because my ideas are stupid and wrong in my head. There’s nothing different about that, nothing fascinating, interesting, worth looking at. I have bad hair and stupid eyes. I have a body that’s nothing. I’m too fat and my mouth is idiotic ugly. My clothes are a joke, my jokes are desperate and complicated and nobody else laughs. I talk like a moron, I can’t say one thing to talk to people that makes them like me, I just babble and sputter like a drinking fountain broken…clinging to a boy everyone knows is a jerk bastard asshole prick, loving him like I’m fucking twelve and learning the whole of life from a smiley magazine. I love like a fool, like a Z-grade off-brand romantic comedy, a loon in too much makeup saying things in an awkward script to a handsome man with his own canceled comedy show. I’m not a romantic, I’m a half-wit. Only stupid people would think I’m smart. I’m not something anybody should know. I’m a lunatic wandering around for scraps, I’m like every single miserable moron I’ve scorned and pretended I didn’t recognize. I’m all of them, every last ugly thing in a bad last-minute costume. I’m not different, not at all, not different from any other speck of a thing. 

(Source: ricochetwabbit)