Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda (Creekwood, #1)

by Becky Albertalli

way you can memorize someone’s gestures but never know their thoughts. And the feeling that people are like houses with vast rooms and tiny windows.

about the ocean between people. And how the whole point of everything is to find a shore worth swimming to.

I lie on top of my bed without getting in it. I hate messing up the sheets before I absolutely have to. I know this is weird, but I make my bed every single day, even though the rest of my room is a hellscape of paper and laundry and books and clutter. Sometimes I feel like my bed is a lifeboat.

I’m tired of coming out. All I ever do is come out. I try not to change, but I keep changing, in all these tiny ways. I get a girlfriend. I have a beer. And every freaking time, I have to reintroduce myself to the universe all over again.

for me, listening to music is a very solitary thing.

Or we could just go to a live show. I mean, I don’t actually know anything about music, but I’m guessing it would be fun if it was with you. Maybe one day.

As a side note, don’t you think everyone should have to come out? Why is straight the default? Everyone should have to declare one way or another, and it should be this big awkward thing whether you’re straight, gay, bi, or whatever. I’m just saying.

The way I feel about him is like a heartbeat—soft and persistent, underlying everything.

White shouldn’t be the default any more than straight should be the default. There shouldn’t even be a default.

people really are like houses with vast rooms and tiny windows. And maybe it’s a good thing, the way we never stop surprising each other.

It almost feels like the words already exist, and you’re just transcribing them.

I do think I’m a little bit lonely. But I was lonelier two weeks ago.

there are so many things I can’t ask you or tell you, or else we’ll probably be able to figure out each other’s identities.