Quotes from Samantha Schutz

The moment I drove away in September I felt like someone was following our car with an eraser, rubbing out my old life.

Putting the potential for damage into someone else's hands is scary. I have to have control, even if it is the power to self-destruct.

I am having a hard time throwing off the skin that I pick and peel.

Little whit pills for calm and quiet, for sense of a composed face in a broken mirror.

I feel racing and suspension all at once.

It would seem that losing the sadness would be a good thing, but it has been replaced by nothing -a quiet acceptance of this boring, everyday life. I think it's even worse than being miserable. At least being miserable is active.

Everyone pushes and is angry at the people who push them.

Is this what all the years of schooling were for? To prepare me for this Sense of being stuck in the middle? What was the point? No one said I was going to be this sad. No one said I would still be crying.

Bein with them is like walking in after a play has already started. You try to slip in quietly and find your seat, but people turn around, give you dirty looks, and whisper to their neighbors about how rude you are.

When the shivering and shaking stops, I know that I will be okay, but my jaw is still tight, and my knees are knocking and the only thing I can do is stare at the candle flame because it is constant.

An eye here, lips there, all misplaced and disjointed, all make sense.

Meeting new people feels like dating. I try to find someone I like, casually start a conversation, and hope we have things in common.

She doesn't care what anyone thinks and it is amazing.

A few months ago, leaving for college seemed glamourous, but now it's hard to believe that this little dorm room, with its scratchy sheets and a lock that sticks, is home. It's hard to accept that this is my new life, that these are my new friends. I am one in many here. There are dozens here as good as me, even more who are smarter, funnier. And it scares me because before I stuck out and now I blend in.

I finally feel far enough away from it to gain perspective on everything that's happened to me and everything I've done.

I am grown in so many ways, but in front of my parents I am still a child. I am having a hard time throwing off the skin that I pick and peel. I am the only one who can do it, but I can't seem to let myself.

I wonder if I am too close to even see what is written on them. This close, everything is just a blurry mess.

Maybe too many new things are happening. Maybe this is just me, and this is how my whole life will be.

I crave broken men. When I try to save other people am I trying to save myself? Am I covering up for my lack of strength by putting people back together? I am tired. I want someone to save me - build an intricate web and place it beneath me in case I fall.

I am not happy. I am not unhappy. I am frozen somewhere in the middle that is so much worse. I am nowhere. Nothing is happening and I am getting more and more sad.

I want things so bad that I force them, push them until they tear.

Where you are and what you are doing is something you have done dozens of times before without any problems Recognize that you are going to get out of this that you always get out of this that you are going to live that you won't go crazy I am telling you that you will live, because you always live, because you are strong and beautiful.

I am the cure and the disease.

Even the pigeons are dancing, kissing, going in circles, mounting each other. Paris is the city of love, even for the birds.