I’m partly somebody else trying to fit in and say the right things and do the right thing and be in the right place and wear what everybody else is wearing.
BEATRICE SPARKSI’m really cracking. No, I’m beyond cracking. I’m shattered. I’m lost. I’m fragmented.
More Beatrice Sparks Quotes
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Even my parents treat me like I’m stupid and inferior and ever short. I guess I’ll never measure up to anyone’s expectations. I surely don’t measure up to what I’d like to be.
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Why is life so difficult? Why can’t we be just ourselves and have everyone accept us the way we are?
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I’m really cracking. No, I’m beyond cracking. I’m shattered. I’m lost. I’m fragmented.
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I really am only one infinitely small part of an aching humanity.
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How can thoughts hurt so much when they aren’t even physical?
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I pretend I’ve got lots of confidence and I’m a big jock and like that but deep inside I’m a frightened, insecure, can’t-make-it failure.
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The complete bottom has fallen out of my life.
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Lying – remembering beauty in truth.
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I feel like Alice in Wonderland. Maybe Lewis G Carroll was on drugs too.
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My biggest mistake: not wanting to help myself into thinking I am happy, that change would come about without really trying to change, or wanting to change. Procrastinating about changing. I do want to change.
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It’s a good thing most people bleed on the inside or this would be a gory, blood-smeared earth.
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I bet the pill is harder to get than drugs–which shows how screwed up this world really is!
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Nobody’s talking to me, but nobody’s hassling me either. I guess you can’t have everything.
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I’m not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I’ve gotten from books.
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They don’t think “I care,” “I hurt,” or “I have feelings.” It just seems like I’m always “wrong,” always “selfish,” always “self-centered” and everything else that’s negative and destructive.
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The voice of every kid hooked on drugs, alcohol or the occult joins the sad chorus “Not me! I didn’t think it could ever happen to me. I was sure I could handle it.
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I guess I’ll never measure up to anyone’s expectations. I surely don’t measure up to what I’d like to be.
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I would like to stay stoned all the time, it scares me it’s so good. I would like to stay stoned every minute of every day for the rest of my life.
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Sometimes fantasies are better than life.
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I’ve got to sleep. Sleep is my only way to escape.
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I’m afraid to live and afraid to die.
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She didn’t know whether she was running away from something or running to something, but she admitted that deep in her heart she wanted to go home.
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I can’t believe that I changed so little. I expected to look old and hollow and gray, but I guess it’s only me on the inside that has shriveled and deteriorated.
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Maybe the new me will be different.
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This morning when I left Mom’s parting words were, “Come straight home after school.” Wow! Like I’m going to get stoned at 3:30—it doesn’t sound so bad at that.
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How is it possible for me to be so miserable and embarrassed and humiliated and beaten an function still talk and smile and concentrate?
BEATRICE SPARKS