Good for her, I guess. Cody's a conceited dick, but whatever makes her happy.

Every action we have is going to have repercussions in ways we could not anticipate.

Do you remember the last thing you said to me? The last thing you did to me? And what was the last thing I said to you? Because trust me when I said it I knew it was the last thing I'd ever say.

One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong.

Everything about it was false. Right then, in that office, with the realization that no one knew the truth about my life, my thoughts about the world were shaken.

Sierra, it's Christmastime. Put a stupid mistletoe over his head and kiss him already!

Rejection always hurts, but having it come from my best friend was the worst. Emma.

I'm sure you heard a lot of sarcastic remarks when you first arrived, but by the time I got there, to everyone else you were just a part of the party. But unlike everyone else, you were the whole reason I came.

My friends and I did one of those 'Who's Hot and Who's Not' lists. Every school has those, and now they are online, which makes it even worse. It was one of those moments that I look back on a lot, and think that was horrible.

Statement number two: Just relax. Translation: Come on, Hannah, all I did was touch you with no indication that you wanted me to touch you. If it'll make you feel better, go ahead, you can touch me wherever you'd like.

I was so anxious about what kind of kiss it would be-because my friends back home described so many types-and it turned out to be the beautiful kind. You didn't shove your tongue down my throat. You didn't grab my butt. We just held our lips together...and kissed.

Everything...affects everything.

Watching those guys pummel each other so no one would suspect them of being weak was too much for me. Their reputations were more important than their faces.

My favorite aspect of being an author has always been visiting different communities and meeting my readers face to face.

Even though someone appears to shrug off a sideways comment or to not be affected by a rumor, it's impossible to know everything else going on in that person's life, and how we might be adding to his/her pain. People do have an impact on the lives of others; that's undeniable.

When you're being bullied, it can feel like no one cares, and I'm so excited to tell the teens at the schools I visit that I wouldn't be there if their school didn't care.

I can't. You can't rewrite the past.

And as I stood there in the hallway―alone―trying to understand what had just happened and why, I realized the truth: I wasn't worth an explanation―not even a reaction. Not in your eyes.

And what about you-the rest of you-did you notice the scars you left behind? No. Probably not.

And in high school, people are always watching so there's always a reason to pose.

A lot of you cared, just not enough.

Could be my soul mate / two kindred spirits / Maybe we're not / I guess we'll never / know.

With her fingers running back up my arms, and all this sperm talk, things are getting a little too intense down below. I lean slightly forward, conveniently placing my forearms across my lap.

If you could hear other people's thoughts, you'd overhear things that are true as well as things that are completely random. And you would know one from the other.

Don't give up on me now. I'm sorry. I guess that's an odd thing to say. Because isn't that what I'm doing? Giving up?

I thought I was going to be known for my humor. But then I had an idea for a story, which was absolutely not humorous. But, of course, that's the one that sells and becomes big.

Why would anyone say this stuff about themselves on the Internet? It's crazy!

I was too weak to walk. At least, I thought I was too weak. But in truth, I was too weak to try.

The signs were all there, all over, for anyone willing to notice.

I wanted people to trust me, despite anything they'd heard. And more than that, I wanted them to know me. Not the stuff they thought they knew about me. No, the real me. I wanted them to get past the rumors. To see beyond the relationships I once had, or maybe still had but that they didn't agree with.

I hope you're ready, because I'm about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. And if you're listening to these tapes, you're one of the reasons why.

The past is over. We can read about it in history books. And what if in the future we're at war again, or we still haven't elected a non-white or non-male president, or the Rolling Stones are still dragging their tired old butts on stage? That would depress me way too much.

Because when you're posed, you know someone's watching. You put on your very best smile. You let your sweetest personality shine.

The road to publication is like a churro— long and bumpy, but sweet.

It's funny: when I go to a school and speak, and when they hear the back story about me, they want to go read the book.

You can't rewrite the past.

You can't go back to how things were. How you thought they were. All you really have

Because maybe I was being selfish. Maybe I was just looking for attention. Maybe I just wanted to hear people discuss me and my problems.

I miss the newness of Magic Eye posters, which really are amazing.

He broke your heart! How can you call it love when he hurt you so badly?

Teens in the '90s had the same basic desires as they do now.

Now, the truth is the one you won't forget.

But my eyes kept staring at the glass—through the glass—at the spoon. And I kept thinking, over and over, Is this what it feels like to go insane?

When I decided I wanted to become an author, I never thought something I wrote would be used as a way to start conversations that are otherwise difficult to begin.

When someone says your name like that, when they won't even look you in the eyes, there is nothing more you can do or say. Their mind is made up.

Because it may seem like a small role now, but it matters. In the end, everything matters.

Normally, when a person has a stellar image, another person's waiting in the wings to tear them apart. They're waiting for that one fatal flaw to expose itself.

It seems like whenever a big newspaper or TV show talks about teen literature, they focus on dark books or vampire books. It's kind of this cliche. It seems like the only time adults pay attention is with that angle.

Josh will begin disappearing into a future where the only place he and I remain friends is on the Internet.