Impulse (Impulse, #1)

by Ellen Hopkins

Like I’m here, but I’m not. Like someone cares. But they don’t. Like I belong somewhere else, anywhere but here,

rattle. Was this charming little thing into self-mutilation, or shopping for a coffin?

white to blue and back again, for the rest of my pitiful life.

my pitiful life turned unbearable. Unthinkable. Try to blot it out, scrub it out, rip it out of my brain completely. But you can’t forget something like that, no matter how much you

an ice princess mom who raised me with glass kisses.”

I think God cares more about how you treat others than who you sleep with.

The hardest part about this religion thing is that every “believer” believes something different.

I cut to make physical what I feel inside.