For eighteen years the Hartes and the Golds have lived next door to each other, sharing everything from Chinese food to chicken pox to carpool duty— they’ve grown so close it seems they have always been a part of each other’s lives. Parents and children alike have been best friends, so it’s no surprise that in high school Chris and Emily’s friendship blossoms into something more. They’ve been soul mates since they were born.
So when midnight calls from the hospital come in, no one is ready for the appalling truth: Emily is dead at seventeen from a gunshot wound to the head. There’s a single unspent bullet in the gun that Chris took from his father’s cabinet— a bullet that Chris tells police he intended for himself. But a local detective has doubts about the suicide pact that Chris has described.
"No matter who you are, there is always some part of you that wishes you were someone else, and when, for a millisecond, you get that wish, it’s a miracle." — Jodi Picoult (The Pact: A Love Story)
These feelings baffle me. I honestly cannot fathom the emotions surging through my veins whenever you walk by, when you tell me I’m pretty, when you smile at a joke I tell. I’m starting to notice things, the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh, how hold the door open for me anytime we go anywhere.
I started to notice you.
And honestly? It’s scaring me.
I”m falling to pieces.
But theres a voice in my head taunting the words you said over and over again
"I’ll do whatever you want" and the choice I made at the time was not the right one
and now here I am. Waiting. Falling for you, when the time has passed.
“There are some things we do because we convince ourselves it would be better for everyone involved. We tell ourselves that it’s the right thing to do, the altruistic thing to do. it’s easier than telling ourselves the truth.”—My Sisters Keeper (via fearlessfight)
“The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children’s godparents, the people to whom I’ve been able to turn in times of trouble, people who have been kind enough not to sue me when I took their names for Death Eaters.”— J.K. Rowling (via thechocolatebrigade)
“i squeezed her hand and felt her respond in kind. when she finally let go, the sensation of her touch lingered, and like an old habit rediscovered, i watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. the sight made me ache.”—Dear John, Nicholas Sparks (via suckmyoreos) (via fearlessfight)
“You know what it’s like getting up every morning? Feeling hopeless, feeling like the love of your life is waking up with the wrong person. But at the same time, hoping that they still find happiness; even if it’s never going to be with you.”—Hitch | Submitted by: beyoutifulllx (via quote-book)
Doing this made me realize that I don’t have too many recent (semi-attractive) photos of myself. Well this is from february, Hannah, Me, and Ally chilling out “jersey shore style” AKA drunk in the hot tub :) Lets just gaze at how pretty my glitter nails are!
for the most part, I like my high school years, sure, they’ve been filled with acne, exams, and crying over boys, but honestly its part of the journey. One thing I am really proud of myself about is my ability to make friends, sure, like every other 16 year old girl I will gossip, I will make snap judgements, but unlike most girls my age, I wont stick to them. This year everything changed, I lost my best friend, my entire world, to the ‘indie”boyfriend”sober”celibacy” craze and I just felt alone for the first time in my life. But everything happens for a reason, the girl I spent 2 years of my life with attached to the hip to was no longer in my life. Branching out was the scariest thing I ever had to do, but strangly enough, the easiest. I realized that in the process of growing appart I had reconnected with my other best friend, the one I’d known since we were 10. And suddenly the world fell into place. I had no issue what so ever with opening up to the new people who before I made snarky remarks towards. I had changed, I had grown, how can I assume that they hadn’t? When our friendship ended, I created so many other ones, and I found that the girls with their names scrawled across the bathroom stalls, the ones I exchanged dirty looks with as they walked through the hall, were the best girls I had ever known. I find it perplexing that the group that claims ‘individuality’ ridicules those who aren’t like them. And we, the ones who broke free from the opressing chains were set free, and I’ve never been so happy alone. Because ultimatly? Being myself made me feel never alone, because everywhere I turn, there is a face, a name, waiting to be befriened, waiting to be given a second chance. And in the end, aren’t we all waiting for a second chance?