delete anyone in your life who doesn’t think dragons are cool you don’t need that kind of negativity around you
Stop setting yourself
on fire for someone who
stays to watch you burn.
Before John Green, his general category of realistic (non-fantasy) YA was rife with teen angst and “issues” fiction that you might have associated with the legendary Judy Blume, or with newer writers like Sarah Dessen or Laurie Halse Anderson. Anderson’s classic 1999 novel Speak, about a high schooler struggling to deal with the aftermath of sexual assault, was so influential that three years later Penguin launched an entire imprint named after it. One of the books launched under the behest of Speak was Green’s Looking for Alaska. But it’s Green whose name you’re more likely to know today, not Anderson’s, although Anderson has won more awards and written more books.
On Twitter, Green has 2 million followers. Compared to the rest of the leaders in Young Adult fiction, that number is staggering. To approach even half the Twitter influence of John Green all by himself, you need an entire army of YA women. Anderson, Blume, Dessen, Veronica Roth, Cassandra Clare, Richelle Mead, Margaret Stohl, Kami Garcia, Rainbow Rowell, Maureen Johnson, Malinda Lo, Holly Black, LJ Smith, Ellen Hopkins, Shannon Hale, Lauren Myracle, Libba Bray, Melissa Marr, and Leigh Bardugo: As a group these women only have about 1.2 million followers on Twitter. That’s the voice of one man outweighing several decades of women who have had major successes, critical acclaim, and cultural influence.
My jealousy is insane with you still
She likes what you like
I want you to be happy.
But I will snidely say
Brunettes are better than blondes
And I’ve blocked you both on Twitter.
is temporary relief
realizing it isn’t there to sit on
Decisions are expensive
for someone that has it
And doesn’t want to spend it
The fear of being poor
Never goes away.
Growing up I always thought true love was red roses, dates on Saturday nights, little block box that held expensive things, and always knowing what to say. I thought true love was a kiss in the rain, deep explanations, and the perfect story. But now that I’m older I’ve realized it’s not like that at all.
See because true love for me is ugly snapchats, and peeing while you’re on the phone. True love is kissing at 6 AM despite the morning breath and singing at the top of your lungs. It’s saying all the wrong things, at all the wrong moments. It’s sarcasm and being honest even when it hurts. It’s late hours of the night when it’s been a long day and it’s no make up and bad hair. It’s tears from laughter, it’s tears from sadness and it’s nothing like any storybook you’ve ever read. It’s never running out of things to talk about, and it’s being comfortable in the silence of things. True love is watching The Titanic though you swore you never would. It’s getting mad over stupid things. It’s “you’re an idiot,” and “you’re a little shit” and knowing you’re so lucky to hear those every day. It’s spilling your feelings at 4 AM when you should be asleep. It’s that song you hear on the radio that always makes you smile. It’s the worst story you could imagine, but thank God it worked out anyways. True love is never losing the magic. True love is not leaving when things get hard.
I like my definition better anyways.
I realize that no matter where I sign
There is no dotted line
That seals my fate
And that comforts me.
Everything I have ever looked forward to has been ruined.
People do not listen to me.
then they wonder why I am upset.
As if the fucking rain falls from the sky
And the ground doesn’t know why it’s wet.