Julie Anne Peters Quotes

I knew right then and there nothing was ever going to change. It wouldn't matter if I was tall or short or fat or thin or absent every day. I was a loser from birth.

My name, from his lips. It still made my heart leap.

Dammit." Kate folded her arms. "I don't understand why she has to flaunt her sexuality. It's a private thing. She should keep it that way. Be discreet, like her sister. I don't see you out there exposing yourself to the world."
Not because I wouldn't, I wanted to say. And it wasn't about sexuality. Not entirely. It was about identify. Love.
Kate added, "She's just asking for trouble."
I thought she was asking for acceptance.

I didn't tell him. And I never told her the whole truth. What would it matter? There was nothing she could do; nothing anyone can do or will do.

Then he did a strange thing. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my palm."
"I died. That was like the sweetest thing.

If we'd found each other, though, the tormented, the weak and powerless, we couldn't bound together. What made me weak was the sense that I was alone. But maybe I wasn't alone. All the people on Through-the-Light, where were they? Living in dark space, the gray place. If we could've found each other sooner, would it have changed the outcome?

Our eyes met across the crowded room, like in the movies, except we didn't share a knowing smile and race into each other's arms. Instead I fell into the trash can.

The worst is waking up in a hospital. Your parents are there, crying. Or your mother is yelling at the doctors and nurses. You come back wrecked. You ruin everyone's day. It won't happen again. I promise.

She's still doing it, pushing me into situations I can't handle, making me cope. She knows I can't cope.

No one else knows I'm alive, which means they won't notice when I'm gone.

You won't know until it's over. You won't find me in time.

I wish I could tell my parents, If you want to help me, help me die.

Why couldn't I have a fatal disease? It'd be so much easier.

My mother read that parents should spend quality time with their children. One way is to sign up for organized activities together. This month we're taking meditation to free the mind. Last month it was Rolfing. Have you ever Rolfed, Tone?"
"Only after the school's shepherd's pie," I said.

Do you love him?"
I jumped out of my skin. She was standing right beside me. "Who?"
Her eyes widened.
"Seth?" I peered over my shoulder at his retreating back. "Um, we've been going together for a long time. A year."
"That's not what I asked."
I couldn't look at her. Couldn't risk her seeing through me, reading me.
"Do you hear bells?" she asked.
I had to smile at that. "Bells?"
"You know, bells. Music, fireworks." She wiggled her eyebrows.
I let out a short laugh. It sounded strangled, same way I felt. "Only in my dreams."
"Oh, yeah?" She arched an eyebrow.
Why did I say that? God.
Cece said softly, "Maybe you should listen to your dreams."
My stomach suffered a major eruption.
She pushed off the locker she'd been balancing against with the sole of her shoe and said, "Think about it."
Like I haven't been. "Do you think about it?" I asked at her back.
She stopped and turned around. "I don't have to. I know." (Chapter13)

That's love? To let someone beat you and be hateful to you? These people are all so ... Weak. Powerless to change their lives. I know the feeling. All you can do is take it. No one understands how it beats you down.

You can't trust machines. You can't trust people.

Like anyone cared where I was, or who I was.

When you discover the joy of reading, your mind opens to a world of wondrous discoveries and infinite possibilities.

It doesn't matter who you love - a guy, a girl - love is love. And it's the most important thing in the world. If you have love in your life, you have everything.

I think about my choice. Either outcome is bleak. If I stay and live through high school, go to college, get a job, what will ever change? This blackness inside will never go away. I don't make friends; I'll always be alone. If I go, at least there's hope of peace. Chance of a new and better life on the other side.

This is my vision-what I imagine I'll pass through on my way to the light. The blue sky, the clouds, the rays of light.

The sad truth is, they should never trust me.

What you see, isn't always what you get

Why am i here? What's my purpose?

What I know is you can't go back. You can't press delete and re-key your life.

They didn't guarantee you'd come out a whole person.

What awaits you? Eternal peace. Serenity. The light on the other side. What awaits me is unknown. The only certainty is that life is an eternal hell.

What can happen in a few minutes changes you forever.

I throw him two bones: a smile and a nod. Both lies.

...the man of my dreams is a girl.

She'll go to hell. They all will. If hell will even have them.

What was I afraid of, exactly? What other people would think? I guess, a little. But that wasn't what was stopping me from acting on my feelings. It was the intensity of them. The desire for her. I knew if I gave into it, I'd have to surrender myself completely. I'd lose all control. Everything I knew, everything I was, the walls I'd built up to protect myself all these years would come crashing down. I might get lost in the rubble. Yet, she made me feel alive in a way I'd only ever imagined I could feel. Bells, whistles, music.

Sometimes I'd catch myself looking at my reflection in windows and wonder who I was. Where I was going. Then the image would change and it wouldn't be me, just some nebulous shadow person.

Would I cheat to save my soul? No. But to save my G.P.A.? Yes.

Wiping the rivulet of sweat running down my ear with the bottom of my muscle shirt, I snuck a sniff under my pit. Whoa. Kill a moose

Year after year. "Please don't make me go [to school]" "You have to go," Kim would say. "It's a new school, make a new start." "Sticks and stones." from Chip. Words will only kill you.

That same piercing screech in her voice every time at the hospital. "Do something!" When I slit my wrists. "Help her!" The last time too. "Somebody help her. Help us!" You're helpless, both of you. All of us.

People don't change. There are two kinds of people in the world: winners and losers. Black and white. I don't know where gray fits in, or if you can even live in that shade.

What did she see in me? What does she see that I don't?

Stop,' I tell her, stepping between her and the bag. 'Look what you're doing.' Jo gazes down at her hands as if they're not even attached to her body. She lowers them. She says, 'I've got a problem.'
'No shit,' I reply.
Her head lolls back and I can see she's hurting. 'I made you coffee.' I tell her, thumbing at the mug on the picnic table. 'Extra strong.'
She asks, 'Did you spike it with arsenic?'
'We're all out,' I answer. 'Unfortunately, all I could find was Excerdrin.

You're running out of tomorrows.
Running out of tomorrows, I repeated to myself in my room, sprawling across my bed to begin another midnight marathon of homework. Sometimes I felt as if there were no tomorrows, that everything, my whole life, was crammed into one long day. A continuous stretch of meaningless time. Sometimes I even wished there was no tomorrow, if this was all I had to look forward to. (Chapter.10)

Secrets. I can't take then with me. If I do, when I go, when I arrive at my final destination, I'll be ... impure.

The truth remains. I was, and am, disgusted with myself.

How will you be remembered? As a loner and a loser.

I hated lying, though. That's probably why I was so bad at it.

I wish I was invisible to him, to everyone.

I know it's hard on her. If I don't tell her she'll kill me." He pauses. "That was supposed to be funny.

I got singled out. I don't know why. Why do people always target me? Is it because I'm short and they figure I can't fight back? They're right, I can't, but it's not because I'm vertically challenged.

It was her way of saying, You should kill yourself.

No one ever found out what was happening inside me. How the pain was eating me away. No one ever came to my rescue, or stood up for me.

Welcome to Final Forum. Use this board to communicate with other who are completers. Please note: Participants may not attempt to dissuade or discourage self termination. Disregard for free will informed consent will result in immediate removal from the board. Future access to Through-The-Light will be denied. This board is monitored at all times."

That's comforting. I've been to suicide boards before where people get on and say stuff like, "Don't do it. Suicide is not the answer."
They don't know the question.
Or, "Life's a bitch. Get used to it."
Thanks.
"Suicide is the easy way out."
If it's so easy, why am I still here?
And my favorite: "God loves you. Life is the most precious gift from God. You will break God's heart if you throw His gift away."
God has a heart? That's news to me.
People on boards are very, very shallow.
The Final Forum has a long list of topic, including: Random Rants, Bullied, Divorce, Disease, So Tired, Hate This Life, Bleak, Bequests, Attempts.
Already I like this board.
I start with Random Rants.

I don't sleep. All night long I'm wide awake, thinking, Secrets, secrets, secrets. There are secrets in my past no one needs to know. Secrets in my present that might kill Kim and Chip. I don't want to take my secrets with me when I go. When I pass through the light, i want to be free of everything and everyone.

I suppose I'll be remembered as dull. Timid. No one ever knew me. People came. They went. I was kind, I think. Not sympathetic, but considerate of others. I always gave up my place in line. I loaned out pencils and paper, or let people take them from me. I never reported a sexual assault.

When I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a starving, stunted bird who never grew wings and lost all reason sing.

Never question the sanity of a woman who can render you defenseless with a look.

Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.

Nick!' I flinch. 'What?' Jo widens her eyes at Mom. 'Forget it, Jo,' Mom says. 'He's not ready.'
'Yes, I am,' I tell her. 'I know I don't have a dad. Kenny DiPoto doesn't have a dad either because his dad got knifed in jail.'
'Geezus,' Jo breathes. 'What kind of neighbourhood is this?

But she never just accepted me for the way I was.

It's actually the fourth,' I say, 'if you count getting fired from CopyMax.'
'Which we do not.' Jo slit-eyes me. She scoops up a handful of Fritos and tosses them into her mouth.
I try to keep a straight face, but it's hard when I add, 'Fired for copying your naked butt and gluing it on your boss's chair.

I never defended myself. Not once. I never said, "Excuse me? What gives you the right to insult and demean me?" I let them steal my dignity.

Me? I had no dreams. No longings. Dreams only set you up for disappointment. Plus, you had to have a life to have dreams of a better life.

Arlo: Show her the ropes.
Finn: Where do we keep the ropes again?

Everything seems to be working. Except me. I'm broken.

But I'm no hero. I had to keep my dirty little secret. The worst sin I committed was holding it in; letting the secret blacken me.

Is that all I am? A friend?"
"Of course not," I say. "I love you."
"Am I the only one?" she asks.
"Yes. Completely." First, last, and always.

Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.

I gaze up at the ceiling. Through it. Past Kim and Chip's room on the second floor into the sky, space, heaven, hell. Who says hell is down? It could be up. It could be next door to heaven. Hell could be a subset of heaven, like a ghetto in the middle of a glass city.

You will break God's heart if you throw His gift away. God has a heart? That's news to me.

They got it wrong when they called it "the closet." This was a prison. Solitary confinement. I was locked inside, inside myself, dark and afraid and alone. (Chapter. 23)

I wanted to be with her, like all the time. Eliminate the obstacles, the people and things in our lives that were keeping us apart: Brandi, Seth, Kirsten, society, me.
Me? Make that my fear. What was I afraid of, exactly? What other people would think? I guess, a little. But that wasn't what was stopping me from acting on my feelings. It was the intensity of them. The desire for her. I knew if I gave into it, I'd have to surrender myself completely. I'd lose all control. Everything I knew, everything I was, the walls I'd built up to protect myself all these years would come crashing down. I might get lost in the rubble. Yet, she made me feel alive in a way I'd only ever imagined I could feel. Bells, whistles, music. (Chapter. 15)

I'm strangling her. She's not the one I want to eliminate. All this suppressing and holding her down, keeping her caged, perpetuating this fraud, this sham. I can't do it anymore." He shook his head. "I can't." He raised his chin and looked at me. "It won't go away. No matter how much I wish, or pray, she's always with me. She is me. I am her. I want to be her. I want to be Luna." "You

The stone bench is gray. The grass is gray. My life is dirty gray

She was perfectly normal."
"What do you mean?"
I turned around again. "What do you mean, what do I mean?"
I clucked my tongue in disgust. "You know, normal. Happy, healthy. Someone with friends and family. Shelley had all kinds of friends. She was popular."
"So if you're not popular, you're not normal?"
"I didn't say that." Did I?

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But its not funny. Not to people who've been told they're losers their whole lives and believe they will never be anything else.

How does he do it? Live. With the fear of death every day. I don't fear death as much as I fear the thought of living.

I hear you. I just don't believe a word you say.

Who becomes you? No one. No one should become me. When I die, I don't want my body or soul inhabited. I wouldn't wish me on anyone.

When I asked [my dad why the sky was blue] he said it was because God's a boy. If God were a girl, the sky would be pink.
'What about sunrise and sunset?' I'd asked.
Dad had looked dumbfounded. 'You kids. You think too much.'
It frightened me how shallow the gene pool was that Liam and I were wading in.

Girls scare me more than boys. Boys are cruel. Girls are mean.

God loves you. Life is the most precious gift from God. You will break God's heart if you throw His gift away.

Miracles don't happen. You make them happen. They're not wishes or dreams or candles on a cake. They're not impossible. Reality is real. It's totally and completely under my control.

That earns him a smack with my book bag.
"Ow." He clutches his arm. "What do you have in there? Books?" A grin snakes across his face. "I like my women feisty."
He adds, "I like my broken.

Yeah, I loved her. I couldn't help it. She was my brother.

Out of sight, out of mind. My philosophy of life in a test tube.

I better get the hearse back before dark." Xanadu sighed. "Uncle Lee got into it with Aunt Faye about me even borrowing it." Grabbing Jamie by his cougar emblem, she added, "Let's go, girlfriend." She yanked him toward the parking lot. I heard Jamie say, "Could I ride in the trunk and pretend I'm a corpse?

Because no one can be trusted.

I don't have to answer. Until you know the question.

Oh yeah. That's me. A mystery, even unto herself.

My hand is whole, unblemished. It's still attached to my arm. It feels contaminated, though, and I have the strongest urge to wash my hands. I can control that urge, wash them later.

As they were carting him off on a gurney, all I could think was, I wish that was me.

She smiled. "You did. And my gaydar never lies. Although later, I thought you might be bi." No, I wasn't bi. I was sure of that now. The depth of desire - it was unbelievable. That, and the certainty of this being right. Being me.

But hell would have to freeze over before I ever wore a dress.

J_Doe032692 wrote: I am not a thin person. However this does not give people the right to taunt me, calling me ugly and worthless, telling me to kill myself because no one will ever want me, or to make up songs about why I am so fat and how much food I eat. NO ONE, I repeat, NO ONE HAS THE RIGHT TO HURT ANOTHER HUMAN BEING THIS BADLY.
My throat constricts. The neck brace feels as if it's shrinking and cutting off my esophagus. I reach up and cover the words with my hand and the web site dissolves.
I want to go.
Now.

I had to fight so hard not to cry.