it's not like i carry a set of index cards around in my bag for indexing emergencies
isaac's still not on when i get back. he's the only person on my 'buddy list,' which is the stupidest fucking name for a list. what are we, three years old?
me: hey, isaac, wanna be my buddy!?
isaac: sure, buddy! let's go fishin'!
isaac knows how stupid i find these things, and he find them just as stupid as i do. like lol. now, if there's anything stupider than buddy lists, it's lol. if anyone ever uses lol with me, i rip my computer right out of the wall and smash it over the nearest head. i mean, it's not like anyone is laughing out loud about the things they lol. i think it should be spelled loll, like what a lobotomized person's tongue does. loll. loll. i can't think any more. loll. loll!
or ttyl. bitch, you're not actually talking. that would require actual vocal contact. or <3. you think that looks like a heart? if you do, that's only because you've never seen a scrotum.
"To tell you the truth, I prefer your average, run-of-the-mill, everyday jackass with his glass-eyed, slack-jawed obliviousness to the guys who try to hijack my cool by reading poetry and listening to halfway-good music. I worked hard for my cool. I got my ass kicked in middle school for my cool. I came by this shit honestly."
i no longer give a fuck. i mean, i didn't think i gave a fuck before. but that was amateur not-giving-a-fuck. this is stop-at-nothing, don't-give-a-fuck freedom.
it even manages to take my mind off of school and maura for a few minutes. but once i get there, she's right in front of me, and the mountain reminds me it's a volcano, and i can't help but want to spray lava everywhere. i walk right past the place where we usually meet up, but that doesn't stop her. she launches right behind me, saying all the things that would be in a hallmark card if hallmark made cards for people who invented internet boyfriends for other people and then were suddenly caught in the lie.
when things break, it's not the actual breaking that prevents them from getting back together again. it's because a little piece gets lost - the two remaining ends couldn't fit together even if they wanted to. the whole shape has changed.
"I would never come on to you, because you're not gay. And, like, boys who like girls are inherently unhot. Why would you like someone who can't like you back?"
The question is rhetorical, but if I wasn't trying to shut up, I'd answer it: You like someone who can't like you back because unrequited love can be survived in a way that once-requited love cannot.
She walks up to me and whisper-says, "It's a slightly creepy delight to see you."
And I say, "I have a science question."
She smiles and nods. "Of course you do. You're wondering how it's scientifically possible that you're paying oh-so-much attention to me now that I have a boyfriend when you were totally uninterested in me before. Sadly, science is baffled by the mysteries of boy psychology."
But I do have a science question-about Tiny and me, about her, and about cats. "Can you explain to me about Schrödinger's cat?"
"Come on," she says, and reaches out for my coat and pulls me down on the sidewalk. I'm walking beside her, not saying anything, and she's mumbling, "God God God God God God God," and I say, "What's wrong?" and she says, "You. You, Grayson. You're what's wrong," and I say, "What?" and she says, "You know," and I say, "No I don't," and she-still walking and not looking at me-says, "There are probably some girls who don't want guys to show up at their house randomly on a Tuesday night with questions about Edwin Schrödinger. I am sure such girls exist. But they don't live at my house."
Will Grayson, Will Grayson, John Green & David Levithan
me: hey, isaac, wanna be my buddy!?
isaac: sure, buddy! let's go fishin'!
isaac knows how stupid i find these things, and he find them just as stupid as i do. like lol. now, if there's anything stupider than buddy lists, it's lol. if anyone ever uses lol with me, i rip my computer right out of the wall and smash it over the nearest head. i mean, it's not like anyone is laughing out loud about the things they lol. i think it should be spelled loll, like what a lobotomized person's tongue does. loll. loll. i can't think any more. loll. loll!
or ttyl. bitch, you're not actually talking. that would require actual vocal contact. or <3. you think that looks like a heart? if you do, that's only because you've never seen a scrotum.
"To tell you the truth, I prefer your average, run-of-the-mill, everyday jackass with his glass-eyed, slack-jawed obliviousness to the guys who try to hijack my cool by reading poetry and listening to halfway-good music. I worked hard for my cool. I got my ass kicked in middle school for my cool. I came by this shit honestly."
i no longer give a fuck. i mean, i didn't think i gave a fuck before. but that was amateur not-giving-a-fuck. this is stop-at-nothing, don't-give-a-fuck freedom.
it even manages to take my mind off of school and maura for a few minutes. but once i get there, she's right in front of me, and the mountain reminds me it's a volcano, and i can't help but want to spray lava everywhere. i walk right past the place where we usually meet up, but that doesn't stop her. she launches right behind me, saying all the things that would be in a hallmark card if hallmark made cards for people who invented internet boyfriends for other people and then were suddenly caught in the lie.
when things break, it's not the actual breaking that prevents them from getting back together again. it's because a little piece gets lost - the two remaining ends couldn't fit together even if they wanted to. the whole shape has changed.
"I would never come on to you, because you're not gay. And, like, boys who like girls are inherently unhot. Why would you like someone who can't like you back?"
The question is rhetorical, but if I wasn't trying to shut up, I'd answer it: You like someone who can't like you back because unrequited love can be survived in a way that once-requited love cannot.
She walks up to me and whisper-says, "It's a slightly creepy delight to see you."
And I say, "I have a science question."
She smiles and nods. "Of course you do. You're wondering how it's scientifically possible that you're paying oh-so-much attention to me now that I have a boyfriend when you were totally uninterested in me before. Sadly, science is baffled by the mysteries of boy psychology."
But I do have a science question-about Tiny and me, about her, and about cats. "Can you explain to me about Schrödinger's cat?"
"Come on," she says, and reaches out for my coat and pulls me down on the sidewalk. I'm walking beside her, not saying anything, and she's mumbling, "God God God God God God God," and I say, "What's wrong?" and she says, "You. You, Grayson. You're what's wrong," and I say, "What?" and she says, "You know," and I say, "No I don't," and she-still walking and not looking at me-says, "There are probably some girls who don't want guys to show up at their house randomly on a Tuesday night with questions about Edwin Schrödinger. I am sure such girls exist. But they don't live at my house."
Will Grayson, Will Grayson, John Green & David Levithan