Julie Anne Peters quotes and sayings
January 16, 1952
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.
the man of my dreams is a girl.
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.
The truth remains. I was, and am, disgusted with myself.
Everyone's a liar. Everyone I've ever known.
I'm going to die a virgin. I like the thought if it. So pure.
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.
Oh sure. Because we always talk about deep down stuff.
I shouldn't have been there. I should never have been born.
What's the point of living if you don't belong anywhere?
Mom's eyes blazed. "Are you sleeping with her?" Oh, god. Did we have to do this here? Now? "Well, actually," I smirked, "we don't get a lot of sleep.
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.
I close my eyes and black out the day. The exhaustion of living through it, surviving.
I wish I was invisible to him, to everyone.
How will you be remembered? As a loner and a loser.
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.
Really? It seems too good to be true. I don't trust it. I don't trust anyone.
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.
What can happen in a few minutes changes you forever.
His invitation lingers. So does my question. Why me? I don't know the answer. When I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a starving, stunted bird who never grew wings and lost all reason to sing.
The sad truth is, they should never trust me.
I had to fight so hard not to cry.
There's no reason to speak. I have nothing to say.
Why are people so cruel? What did I ever do to them?
This is my fault. Mine. Making her think I'd be here for her.
Why couldn't I have a fatal disease? It'd be so much easier.
At times like this, I'm thankful I don't feel love.
I hope they remember the good stuff, when I was a baby, a toddler, when they still had hopes and dreams for their little girl, their miracle child. In truth they were good to me. They were only doing what they knew how to do; what they thought was best.
What did she see in me? What does she see that I don't?
I just want the pain to end.
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.
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.
I've never been afraid of the dark. I'm more afraid of the day, of people. I love the night. The solitude. Well, I don't love it. I don't feel love. I hate people, so I hope when I get there it isn't crowded. I hope the light is a momentary phenomenon and the other side is completely black. And silent.
I have no intent. I have no reason to live, that's all. When I'm gone, I don't want to be remembered.
I'd decided to write him and tell him to leave me alone. Please, in a nice way, go away, I really can't deal with you.
My room is cleared. My head is cleared. Earlier, around dawn, I took out the last load of trash. I look around and see what's left. Nothing. There is no more Daelyn Rice. As I was. As I am. Or will become. I'm a blank slate.
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.
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.
I wish I could tell my parents, " If you want to help me, help me die.
I don't have to answer. Until you know the question.
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.
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.
She's still doing it, pushing me into situations I can't handle, making me cope. She knows I can't cope.
Don't choose me. I'm not worth your time.
You would never understand, Kim. You think I'm normal; you wish I was.
You still have," I looked at my watch, "twelve seconds to change your mind. Find someone else and save your reputation." One side of his lip cricked up. "I found you. I'll take my chances.
I'm all she's got and if I don't make it this time . . ." You'll pass through the light. A ribbon of guilt twists my stomach. I'm all Kim and Chip have too. But the difference is, they'll be better off without me.
And it's more. It's about getting past that question of whats wrong with me, to knowing there's nothing wrong, that you were born this way. You're a normal person and a beautiful person and you should be proud of who you are. You deserve to live and live with dignity and show people your pride.
Never question the sanity of a woman who can render you defenseless with a look.
I may be fat and ugly, but I'm not stupid. If anyone had ever gotten past my looks, they might've noticed I have a brain.
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.
You won't know until it's over. You won't find me in time.
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.
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 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.
Take it as a token. Because tomorrow when I go, I want you to believe friends are possible.
I don't have alot of people to talk to. Not alot of people are worth my time.
His eyes are like a telescope. I look into them and I'm transported across the universe to a world I've never been.
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.
Yeah, I hear the truth. But this is my truth.
Yeah, I loved her. I couldn't help it. She was my brother.
Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.
Yet, when we talked, when we were together, she seemed so familiar. Seemed to know who I was, where I was coming from. She knew me better than I knew myself, I think. She was easy to be with. And I wanted to be with her, like all the time.
I hated him. I hated them all. They made me hate myself even more than I already did.
What will I become? Because I won't be me any longer. That will be a relief. I dont want to be the helpless person I've always been.
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.
I throw him two bones: a smile and a nod. Both lies.
My parents will be sad for a while, and they may even blame themselves, the way they do now. Eventually they'll come to peace with my decision. I hope they'll realize I'm finally at peace.
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.
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.
I won't be alive so I won't care who finds me.
There's always a way out. All you have to do is take it.
With determination and purpose, I head into the light.
But you'd sell your soul for it, wouldn't you? For one day of feeling beautiful.
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.
Why am i here? What's my purpose?
She responds by kissing me harder and longer and deeper. She loves me too. She's just afraid.
Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.
Because no one can be trusted.
It was all about hate. There should be laws. We're there laws? Can you legislate against hatred?
Who will see you through the darkness? "Me," I key in the answer. "I'll find my own way.
Like anyone cared where I was, or who I was.
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.
Do what, Kim? Lead a normal life? Too late. Way too late.
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.
Girls scare me more than boys. Boys are cruel. Girls are mean.
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.
Henry David Thoreau
C. S. Lewis
J. K. Rowling
George R. R. Martin
F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Notorious B.I.G.
Anne Graham Lotz
Robert Murray M'Cheyne
Paul J. Meyer
Terms & conditions
© 2021 QuoteVisit