All of them are the same type; girls with overprocessed hair and too much makeup and way too much access to Daddy’s credit cards. Girls who, if you took away the designer labels, hair dye and cover-up, wouldn’t be more than average-looking, but with all that stuff look too plastic to be pretty.
In some ways I admire Aunt Helen's unwavering certainty in God's divine plan. It must be comforting, to have faith like that. To believe so concretely that there's someone - something - out there watching guard, keeping us safe, testing us only with what we can handle. I've never believed in anything the way Aunt Helen believes in God.
I'm not saying he was, like, crying tears of man pain over the phone, but he sounded upset.
Sketchy black van? Weird stalking of my house? What are you going to do next, offer me some candy?
I hate organized religion. I hate that people use it to justify their crappy, bigoted beliefs.
I don't know what I need, or even what I want, from her or from anybody. There's no way to tell her the truth, because the truth is that my heart is broken, and I don't think there''s any chance of it being sewn back together. This is permanent. It can't be fixed.
These songs tell me I'm not alone. If you look at it that way, music...music can see you through anything.
If you really want things to change, you can make them change no matter where you are.