Sam

“I am but paper. Brittle and thin. I am held up to the sun, and it shines right through me. I get written on, and I can never be used again. These scratches are a history. They’re a story. They tell things for others to read, but they only see the words, and not what the words are written upon. I am but paper, and though there are many like me, none are exactly the same. I am parched parchment. I have lines. I have holes. Get me wet, and I melt. Light me on fire, and I burn. Take me in hardened hands, and I crumple. I tear. I am but paper. Brittle and thin.”
― T.J. Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea

“I’m done being a good sport. I resent being a good sport. If I wasn’t such a good sport to begin with, I wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place. I wouldn’t be on this shitty show saying these shitty lines on this shitty set with this shitty hairstyle. Maybe my life would be entirely different right now. I fantasize about it being different.”
― Jennette McCurdy, I'm Glad My Mom Died

“She took care of me and my brothers, I’m sure that was really hard for her.’

‘That was her job.’

I feel interrogated, like I can’t say the right thing. I speed up, trying to explain myself.

‘Well, but I mean this was different from most parents.’ Shit. I hated how that came out.

‘How so?’

I pause to compose myself. Laura won’t rattle me. I speak in an even, measured tone.

‘She sacrificed everything for me. She constantly went without so she could take care of me. She put me first, ahead of herself.’

‘Hmm. And do you think that’s healthy?’

What kind of fresh hell is this? What is this impossible-to-ace quiz? I have no idea how I’m supposed to be answering to make Mom look good.”
― Jennette McCurdy, I'm Glad My Mom Died

“The fragility of Mom’s life is the center of mine.”
― Jennette McCurdy, I'm Glad My Mom Died