The Upside of Unrequited

by Becky Albertalli

I don’t entirely understand how anyone gets a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. It just seems like the most impossible odds. You have to have a crush on the exact right person at the exact right moment. And they have to like you back. A perfect alignment of feelings and circumstances. It’s almost unfathomable that it happens as often as it does.

Certain nights have this kind of electricity. Certain nights carry you to a different place from where you started.

wish there were a secret signal you could use to communicate: HELLO. I AM OFFICIALLY COOL WITH SILENCE.

You would matter. That’s the thing. I get into this weird place sometimes where I worry about that. I’ve never told anyone this—not my moms, not even Cassie—but that’s the thing I’m most afraid of. Not mattering. Existing in a world that doesn’t care who I am.

So, maybe I should let my heart break, just to prove that my heart can take it. Or at the very least, I need to stop being so fucking careful.

But maybe there are always tiny sad pieces inside me, waiting to be recognized and named. Maybe it’s like that for everyone.

Because when a tender moment happens between any two people, I turn into an eleven-year-old boy. It is my most consistent talent.

Maybe my company is even better than making out—which is pretty much my goal as a human being, honestly.

Because that’s the thing about change. It’s so painfully normal. It’s the most basic of all tragedies.

think every relationship is actually a million relationships. I can’t decide if that’s a bad thing.