More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
we aren’t giving a show: we are the show. And the show doesn’t take two minutes to compose itself after almost breaking its neck.
Essentially, our clothes—our costumes—tell the story of our personalities. Just not our real ones.
The thing about Zach is, he’s quite beautiful.
Hopefully, the voice insists, louder this time, he’s not just kissing you for his self-esteem. Because you told him he’s beautiful, after the world made him feel ugly.
He’s gorgeous, sure. But is it gorgeous in an “I want to consensually pin you down” sort of way, or an “I want to be you” sort of way?
The thing about your dreams coming true is that, for a gold-spun moment, you catch a glimpse of what life could be like. Then when you lose it, and you crash back to reality, it’s from such a great height, all you can do is lie there, winded and bruised, while you come to terms with the idea that a happiness like that isn’t meant for
I bleed, and I bleed, and I bleed.
It’s all so pretty, but it doesn’t matter. Not compared to Ruben.
The thing about Mom is, though, she doesn’t judge the finished product, she judges the process. She doesn’t seem to believe in “learning.”
There’s not as much banter as there usually is, today. The Tension is sitting over us like a blanket sucking away our oxygen, putting out our fire.
“What if you’ve figured out that you might like guys, but you’ve been scared to do anything about it, because then it would become real?”
How did he get the power to still everything within me through one touch? I’ve had crushes before. Boyfriends before. But I’ve always felt in control. Completely separate from them. Me, the individual, happy to be around them, the individual. Content, but not engulfed.
When Zach touches me, though, it’s like my skin stops being the barrier that holds me in and the world out. It feels like a boundary he can cross at will, to merge with me and fill me with this fire, from the depths of my chest to the surface of my skin. To make me, the individual, bigger, bursting at the seams, surging outward with something both undefinable and terrifying to lose.
As far as I know, two members in the same boy band have never dated before. Or have been out at the peak of the band’s success. If it’s found out, it will become a huge news story. It could easily become Saturday’s defining characteristic.
“We can’t break up,” I say. “Because we aren’t in a relationship. We’re just two people who exist in relation to each other.”
The thing is, haters and trolls don’t matter, even if it seems like they do. Sales are the most important thing, and we’re still breaking records. While we still have that, the trolls can talk their shit, but we’re safe. I know that.
The theme for the video is that we’re futuristic race car drivers, who dance for some reason,
As individuals, they’re all wonderful to begin with, but there’s something awe-inspiring about them as a group. Banded together, they have more power than the four of us and our team ever could. That’s how they managed to raise us as high as they did, I guess. But the flipside is they also have the power to destroy us, if they choose to.
It’s a paradox, because we’re a paradox. We’re Schrödinger’s boyfriends. We both have a future together, and we’re about to crash and burn, and until Chorus decides once and for all whether to remove our chains, we can’t know which reality is the truth.
I don’t want to sleep with anyone but him ever again.
don’t want to do drugs, but I get it. If I could take a pill and stop the feeling of constant, overwhelming pressure, if only momentarily? I can see the appeal.
