Autumn Doughton Quotes

You're the bright spot in my day.

After all of it ... the good, the bad, the in-between ... If I told you that I love you, what would you say?

I can assure you that a kiss under the influence does not equal long-lasting romance.

In fact, I noticed everything about Alex. Like that his left nostril was slightly larger than his right nostril. And the way he ate a Kit Kat bar: chocolate first and then the layers of wafer separately. I could pick his one sneeze in a room full of sneezers.

If she wanted to, she could reach into my chest and rip my heart out of my body because it already belongs to her.

That's it. I've had enough of this talking crap. I reach my hands up. I cup his chin and bring his mouth to mine.

Love isn't an accident or something that just happens when you're not looking. Love is a choice, not a chance.

As I move to the front office, I bring the warm copies to my face and breathe them in. This is a weird habit of mine - sniffing copies. I do the same thing when I get a new book. What can I say? I have a paper sniffing problem. Things could be worse.

Or we can settle in and watch every single episode of Sherlock." "Now you're talking." Benedict Cumberbatch is my homeboy.

People are just preprogrammed to want what they don't have. It's like it's a universal law.

You dump trash. You dump yard waste and old ripped couches that smell like body odor and forgetfulness. You dump cigarette butts and banana peels and hazardous waste. But people?

Ellie, I came back early because I was driving everyone around me crazy. When I wasn't texting you or talking to you, I was talking about you, and thinking about you, and wondering about you ... you get the idea.

I love you back - in a big and epic way.

I've forgotten to remember

She looks skeptical. "A bird attacked you?" "Not quite." I give a chagrined sigh. "A bird shit in my eye.

You don't get my permission to break my fucking heart.

It's the kind of music you want to listen to while you lay on the grass and get lost in the sky. It feels like sunshine breaking on your skin.

Pain doesn't really go away because someone kisses it better. Sadness doesn't recede because a person posts an inspiring quote on your Facebook wall. Grief doesn't sink into the shadows the moment the sun comes up. You can't sleep your way through misery. There are some hurts that become a part of you, like your blood or your eyes or your teeth. Those are the ones that need to be lived over and over again.

I think they look like little pieces of green confetti decorating the grey cement walk and that seems all wrong.

Then I wake up. And, it's not the purple- hued light of the house at three in the morning that has woken me, or the sound of Payton stumbling into the bathroom. It's a hand.
A single hand.
So innocuous.
I feel it before my eyes blink open. A slight weight on my hip. A current of electricity running through me, reshaping the air that I breathe. It takes only a second for me to process what it is, to rearrange the spaces in my head around the feel of his fingers on my body.

And there's always a way to begin with.

It was at times like this when I wished people still had old school phones because, more than anything, I wanted to slam mine down.

But, here's a sad fact: perfect isn't meant to be. When you aim for perfect, you just wind up ruined.

If the question is: what's more mortifying than professing your love to a boy and having him turn and walk away from you? The answer is: professing your love to a boy, while standing in front of your friends, parents and a hundred strangers, and having him turn and walk away from you.

He looks at you like you're the only person in the room. Like he's trapped underwater and you're an oxygen tank. Like he's in anaphylactic shock and you're an EpiPen.

If I could do just one near perfect thing I'd be happy. They'd write it on my grave or when they scattered my ashes. On second thoughts, I'd rather hang around and be there with my best friend if she wants me. ~Belle and Sebastian "If She Wants Me

But I broke your heart," she whispers. I shrug and kiss her again. "You break it, you buy it.

Crawl 'til dawn on my hands and knees Goddamn these vampires for what they've done to me. ~Mountain Goats "Damn These Vampires

Life is unpredictable and it doesn't follow a map.

Then I'd say that I'm fucking sick and tired of getting in the way of myself.

This is how you unraveled me. Thread by thread. Until I was bare, Wearing nothing but my skin And my bones And my blood.

This girl is some strange cross-pollination of wide-eyed innocence and tear-your-balls-off scrappiness and all I can think is, where the hell has she been all my life?

Aimee, what if, she asked, you decided to let go? And I wondered if she'd been listening to me at all. Because all I do is let go.

The need to write overshadowed everything. I needed to get down the words more than I needed oxygen to breathe. I was almost feverish with it.

Poetry and song lyrics might want us to believe that finding love is like uncovering buried treasure, but now I know the truth. There's no joy or celebration in love. There are no happy endings. There is simply me and her and a crushing pain. What's left after that? An entire life of mute should-haves and second-bests.

I don't want to always look at things from a distance so that I can hold on to this idea that they're so perfect and flawless. I want to be close enough to see the cracks and all of the dark spaces. And if it's true that all of my tomorrows are really beginning right this minute, I know exactly how I want them to go.

Sometimes things don't work out like we plan. Like, maybe life has other things in mind.

Every moment possesses its own kind of magic.

Insecurity is like a net, and I let it catch me.

Her. One word. A simple pronoun that seems like an entire vocabulary.

Here's what I think: it's one thing to know that rejection is coming, and it's an entirely different thing when it arrives.

I have a theory that the world is broken up into two kinds of people."
"Yeah?"
"Yep. On the one side are the people who love the Harry Pottery books and wish that they could attend Hogwarts and have Ron and Hermione for best friends and vanquish Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
She's smiling at me, and she's just so fucking cute. I have to ask: "And the other side?"
Aimee shrugs. "Douchebags.

We don't want to lose you. Didn't she realize that I was already gone.

Crap on a cracker," I breathed.

A part of me so desperately wanted to believe it was possible, but the other part of me knew that holding on to false hope can be a dangerous thing.

And, you know, when all is said and done, it really is better to wind up feeling scared and stupid than not feel anything at all.

Happiness isn't something that you plan for. It comes knocking unexpectedly, just like opportunity. And it's up to you to answer the door and invite it inside.

Do you hear that sound? It's the sound of the world ripping apart.

So let me get this straight," he says. "Death is the only destination and nothing else is real because it's not perfect or final?"
I roll my eyes. "Okay, Nietzsche. That's not exactly what I said."
"I just think people are always doing that."
"Doing what?"
"They're always asking themselves, 'Where am I going?' but they're never looking around and asking, 'Where am I?' Everything's about what's going to be next instead of noticing what's happening right now. But the now is the only thing that's actually real.

I'm miserable but the thing is that I want to be miserable. It's kind of nice. Like a comfortable sweater that you put on around teh house but wouldn't be caught dead wearing in public.

You can't focus on what you should or shouldn't write or who you should or shouldn't be like. Just write for yourself and eventually you'll get to that place you want to be.

Every couple of days I have to remind myself that I'm really okay. And it's not the pretend kind of okay. It's the kind that you feel from the inside out. It's the kind of okay that has me thinking about outfits and coffee first thing in the morning, and homework that's due later this week, and that I need to call Jodi back, and what Cole's abs look like when he flexes. It's the kind of okay that makes life a zillion times more bearable and also has me waiting for the other shoe to drop. I

Ending

I lied.
I wanted you from that moment.
I wanted you, wrapped in starlight and reflections,
To be tied up with strings.
And ropes.
And chains.
I wanted you hanging around my neck
Like a charm I could press to my heart and
Make three wishes on.

But I trapped the want
And the words inside my mouth.
I buried those secret things under my tongue,
Biting down until blood and bitterness
Filled my mouth
And poured down the back of my throat.

In the beginning, you said, there was only water.
But what about the end?

I closed my eyes and lay flat
With my back to the ocean
And my face to the sky.
I lifted my hands and caught ribbons of wind
Underneath my fingernails.
I rode the water for so long,
I forgot what my skin felt like when it was dry.

This is no shy, just-between-friends kiss. This is a kiss unlike any that I've ever had. It's the kiss of a hundred thumping kick drums, a raging earthquake.

...people called it justice, but prison doesn't make everything better," he observes. "Just because someone pays a price doesn't mean they didn't steal from you to begin with.

Look, haven't you ever heard that musicians play from the heart? Well, I can't be expected to play in California when my heart's over two thousand miles away.

It's not perfect, but nothing is perfect except for an idea of something," he goes on, "And if we aren't experiencing the world and all we do is think about our idea of the world, then why bother with any of it?

Holden Caulfield people are the bane of my existence.

And on the bad days I'm not even sure that I exist anymore. Today is a bad day.

Alex was a world. He was an entire galaxy. A universe of possibilities.

Maybe the problem with lying is that once you start faking it, it's impossible to tell where the make-believe you ends and the real you begins. It's hard to be who you are, but it's even harder to keep up the lie.

We said it from the beginning. No strings. No regrets. We lay, tangled in a web of sheets, Limbs and anemic light, And we passed promises back and forth like slippery stars. You told me you were recovering from A broken heart. I told you I was recovering from A broken life. Fair enough, we agreed and laughed. We wrote stories on our bodies. Middles and endings Etched onto our feet and the palms of our hands. Our hopes were lettered in black and silver On a background of stark white flesh. We traded words on our tongues like tiny drops of melted sugar.

Wise words are all well and good when they are spoken by wise people, but when egomaniacal assholes are tossing them around, they are just words.

You, Cole. I like you.

Loving her is strange and confusing and damn risky. And if I had the chance I'd choose it all over again.

I have serious issues with families in coordinated clothing. Just sayin

Maybe the truth is that all I've ever wanted is to be good for somebody else.