Your view on yourself:

The type of girlfriend/boyfriend you are looking for:

Your readiness to commit to a relationship:

The seriousness of your love:

Your views on education

The right job for you:

How do you view success:

What are you most afraid of:

Who is your true self:

"I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all. "

You can’t undo something that’s happened; you can’t take back a word that’s already been said out loud. You’ll think about me and wish that you had been able to talk me out of this. You’ll try to figure out what would have been the one right thing to say, to do. I guess I should tell you, Don’t blame yourself; this isn’t your fault, but that would be a lie. We both know that I didn’t get here by myself.

You’ll cry, at my funeral. You’ll say it didn’t have to be this way. You will act like everyone excepts you to. But will you miss me?

Most importantly – will I miss you ?

Does either one of us really want to hear the answer to that question?

Nobody wants to admit to this, but bad things will keep on happening. Maybe that’s because it’s all a chain, and a long time ago someone did the first bad thing, and that led someone else to do another bad thing, and so on. You know, like that game where you whisper a sentence into someone’s ear, and that person whispers it to someone else, and it all comes out wrong in the end.

But then again, maybe bad things happen because it’s the only way we can keep remembering what good is supposed to look like.

Whether or no you believe in Fate comes down to one thing: who you blame when something goes wrong. Do you think it’s your fault- that if you tired better, or worked harder, it wouldn’t have happened? Or do you just chalk it up to circumstance ?

I know people who’ll hear about the people who died, and will say it was God’s will. I know people who’ll say it was bad luck. And then there’s my personal favourite: They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Then again, you could say the same thing about me, couldn’t you ?

When you don’t fit in, you become superhuman. You can feel everyone else’s eyes on you, stuck like Velcro. You can hear a whisper about you from a mile away.; You can disappear, even when it looks like you’re still standing right there. You can scream, and nobody hears a sound.

You become the mutant who fell into the vat of acid, the Joker who can’t remove his mask, the bionic man who’s missing all of his limbs and none of his heart.

You are the thing that used to be normal, but that was so long ago, you can’t even remember what it was like.

You can feel people staring; it’s like heat that rises from the pavement during summer, like a poker in the small of your back. You don’t have to hear a whisper, either, to know that it’s about you.

I used to stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom to see what they were staring at. I wanted to know what made their heads turn, what it was about me that was incredibly different. At first I couldn’t tell. I mean, I was just me.

Then one day, when I looked in the mirror, I understood. I looked into my own eyes and I hated myself, maybe as much as all of them did.

That was the day I started to believe they might be right.

Ask a random kid today if she wants to be popular and she’ll tell you no, even if the truth is that if she was in a desert dying of thirst and had the choice between a glass of water and instant popularity, she’d probably change the latter. Seem you can’t admit to wanting it, because that makes you less cool. To be truly popular, it has to look like it’s something you are, when in reality, it’s what you make yourself.

I wonder if anyone works any harder at anything than kids do at being popular. I mean, even air-traffic controllers and the president of the United States take vacations, but look at your average high school student, you’ll see someone who’s putting in time twenty-fours a day, for the entire length of the school year.

So how do you crack that inner sanctum? Well, here’s the catch: it’s not up to you. What’s important is what everyone else thinks of how you dress, what you eat for lunch, what shows you TiVo, what music is on your iPod.

I’ve always sort of wondered, though: If everyone else’s opinion is what matters, then do you ever really have one of your own?

Everyone thinks you make mistakes when you’re young, but I don’t think we make any fewer when we’re grown up.

I think a person’s life is supposed be like a DVD. You can see the version everyone else sees, or you can choose the director’s cut – the way he wanted you to see it, before everything else got in the way.

There are menus, probably, so that you can start at the good spots and not have to relive the bad ones. You can measure your life by the number of scenes you’ve survived, or the minutes you’ve been stuck there.

Probably, though, life is more like one of those dumb video surveillance tapes. Grainy, no matter how you stare at it. And looped: the same thing, over and over.

I have only known her for two years. But If you Took every memory, every moment, if you stretched them end to end – they’d reach forever.

It is the things you cannot see coming that are strong enough to kill you.

My parents looked at each other. Neither of them understood like I did, like Jesse did – that no matter who you are, there is some part of you that always wishes you were someone else – and when, for a millisecond, you get that wish, it’s a miracle.

Extraordinary things are always hiding in places people never think to look.

I close my eyes, take a few deep breaths. And it strikes me: not everyone dies of old age. People get run over by cars. People crash in airplanes. People choke on peanuts. There are no guarantees about anything, least of all one’s future.

It’s not fair, but Kate knows that. It doesn’t take a whole long life to realize that what we deserve to have, we rarely get.

Life sometimes get so bogged down in the details, you forget you are living it.

Don’t you remember, it was like this.

The answer is that there is no good answer. So as parents, as doctors, as judges, and as a society, we fumble through and make decisions get made and how we decide who should make them.
 

'I love you' also means 'I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you, or will love you,' and also, 'I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you,' and also, 'I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else.' ♥

I COULD BE FUN, IF YOU WANT. I COULD BE PENSIVE, UHHH...
SMART, SUPERSTICIOUS, BRAVE?
AND I, UHH, I CAN BE LIGHT ON MY FEET. I COULD BE WHATEVER YOU WANT.
YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, AND I'M GONNA BE THAT FOR YOU.

- Noah

i can tell just how much you love me but i love you more.
i found out the kind of love that's sweetest, is worth waiting for.

"It's beauty that captures your attention; personality which captures your heart."

i looooooooooove you
i loooooooooove you
i looooooooove you
i loooooooove you
i looooooove you
i loooooove you
i looooove you
i loooove you
i looove you
i loove you
i love you
i love u
ily
♥