If You Expect The Worst, You'll Never

Okay, So If That's Not Real, What Is? What Counts, To You?" He Thought For A Second, Then Said, "i Don't Know. Just Because Someone's Pretty Doesn't Mean She's Decent. Or Vice Versa. I'm Not Into Appearances. I Like Flaws, I Think They Make Things Interesting." I Wasn't Sure What Answer I'd Expected. But This Wasn't It. For A Second, I Just Sat There, Letting It Sink In. "you Know," I Said Finally, "saying Stuff Like That Would Make Girls Even Crazier For You. Now You're Cuteand Somewhat More Attainable. If You Were Appealing Before, Now You're Off The Charts.

That Was The Hard Thing About Grief, And The Grieving. They Spoke Another Language, And The Words We Knew Always Fell Short Of What We Wanted Them To Say.

Lissa Lowered Her Voice And Added, "i Might Not Even Go To School Anyway. I Might Defer And Join The Peace Corps And Go To Africa And Shave My Head And Dig Latrines." "shave Your Head?" I Said, Because, Really, This Was The Most Ludicrous Part Of The Whole Thing. "you? Do You Have Any Idea How Ugly Most People's Bare Heads Are? They've Got All Kinds Of Bumps, Lissa. And You Won't Know Until It's Too Late And You're Flat-out Bald.

There's Just Something Obvious About Emptiness, Even When You Try To Convince Yourself Otherwise.

I'm Incredibly Flattered When People Tell Me That My Books Helped Them Through High School. Because Of My Own Experience, The Thought That Something I Wrote Might Help Someone Who Felt The Way I Did When I Was A Teen...that's Huge. It Awes Me.