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Why couldn’t all men be just like her father? He thought she was beautiful
and brilliant, and his smell didn’t make her sick.
“Will you show me how to be a good kisser?”
“I’m not certain you aren’t one already.” “I’m really not.”
This was a little insta lovey for me but gosh they're cute.
Which was actually one of her main weaknesses, and a defining
characteristic of her disorder. She didn’t know how to be semi-interested in something. She was either indifferent . . . or obsessed. And her obsessions weren’t passing things. They consumed her and became a part of her. She kept them close, wove
them into her very life. Just li...
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For several stomach-twisting moments, she ran through her list of presocialization reminders:
think before you talk (anything and everything can be an insult to someone; when in doubt, say nothing), be nice, sitting on your hands prevents fidgeting and feels good, make eye contact, smile (no teeth, that’s scary), don’t start thinking about
work, don’t let yourself talk about work (no one wants to hear about it), please and thank y...
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She had a disorder, but it didn’t define her. She was Stella. She was a unique person.
“Not candy. A protein bar. There are vitamins and stuff in it.” “You’re coming with me. Don’t argue. I’m going to feed you.”
Aw
“We’re going into a practice relationship. I think we should kiss on it.”
Aw
I like you better than calculus, and math is the only thing that unites the universe.
Aw
Under the table, Michael squeezed her leg. He leaned toward her to whisper in her ear. “Do you really like it? You don’t have to eat it. I can get you something else.”
Aw
“I assure you he’s just a phase. You’re not in love,” he said with certainty.
Rude sir.
“Don’t tease me, Michael. I need you.”
Aw
Love, he found, was a jail. It trapped, and it clipped wings. It dragged you down, forced you to places you didn’t want to go—like this club he didn’t belong in.
Michael was mint chocolate chip for her. She could try other flavors, but he’d always be her favorite.
Aw
People called it a disorder, but it didn’t feel like one. To her, it was simply the way she was.
Yes, she was lonely. Yes, she had a broken
heart. But at least she had herself.
