Becky Albertalli Quotes

Why is straight the default? Everyone should have to declare one way or another, and it shouldn't be this big awkward thing whether you're straight, gay, bi, or whatever. I'm just saying.

White shouldn't be the default any more than straight should be the default. There shouldn't even be a default.

People really are like house with vast rooms and tiny windows. And maybe it's a good thing, the way we never stop surprising each other.

What's a dementor?" I mean, I can't even. "Nora, you are no longer my sister." "So it's some Harry Potter thing," she says.

The way I feel about him is like a heartbeat -- soft and persistent, underlying everything.

He talked about the ocean between people. And how the whole point of everything is to find a shore worth swimming to.

Sometimes it seems like everyone knows who I am except me.

But I'm tired of coming out. All I ever do is come out. I try not to change, but I keep changing, in all these tiny ways. I get a girlfriend. I have a beer. And every freaking time, I have to reintroduce myself to the universe all over again.

I mean, I feel secure in my masculinity, too. Being secure in your masculinity isn't the same as being straight.

I’m too busy trying not to be in love with someone who isn’t real.

He tells me to pick the music. I’m not sure if he knows that handing me his iPod is like handing me the window to his soul.

I don't even know. I'm just so sick of straight people who can't get their shit together.

Really, though, there are only two kinds of weather: hoodie weather and weather where you wear a hoodie anyway.

Imagine going about your day knowing someone’s carrying you in their mind. That has to be the best part of being in love- the feeling of having a home in some else’s brain.

I fall a little bit in love with everyone.

Because I have to admit: there's something really badass about truly, honestly not caring what people think about you.

It is definitely annoying that straight (and white, for that matter) is the default, and that the only people who have to think about their identity are the ones who don't fit that mold. Straight people really should have to come out, and the more awkward it is, the better. Awkwardness should be a requirement.

And you know what? You don’t get to say it’s not a big thing. This is a big fucking thing, okay? This was supposed to be—this is mine. I’m supposed to decide when and where and who knows and how I want to say it.

The closest thing I’ve ever had to a journal is probably you.

People are shameless when it comes to cake. It's a beautiful thing to see.

Nothing is worse than the secret humiliation of being insulted by proxy.

I take a sip of my beer, and it's - I mean, it's just astonishingly disgusting. I don't think I was expecting it to taste like ice cream, but holy fucking hell. People lie and get fake IDs and sneak into bars, and for this? I honestly think I'd rather make out with Bieber. The dog. Or Justin.

I try not to change, but I keep changing, in all these tiny ways...And every freaking time, I have to reintroduce myself to the universe all over again.

There's something about you that makes me want to open up, and that's slightly terrifying to me.

I can’t fuck your life, I’m monogamously fucking my own life.

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.

I hate when assholes have talent. I want to live in a world where good people rule at everything and shitty people suck at everything.

I like no endings. I like things that don't end.

It feels like we’re the last survivors of a zombie apocalypse. Wonder Woman and a gay dementor. It doesn’t bode well for the survival of the species.

It's strange because in reality, I'm not the leading guy. Maybe I'm the best friend. I guess I didn't think of myself as interesting until I was interesting to Blue.

I don’t know if we’re in a love story or a story about love.

Wow, is that Katniss making out with Yoda?

There are some socks that shouldn't be washed by your mom.

I believe in love at first sight. Fate, the universe, all of it. But not how you’re thinking. I don’t mean it in the our souls were split and you’re my other half forever and ever sort of way. I just think you’re meant to meet some people. I think the universe nudges them into your path.

I swear, people can’t wrap their minds around the concept of a fat girl who doesn’t diet. Is it that hard to believe I might actually like my body?

Mr. Spier, memorizing the Hamilton soundtrack is not going to save you on the AP Euro exam.

But maybe this isn’t how life works. Maybe it’s all about people coming into your life for a little while and you take what they give you and use it on your next friendship or relationship. And if you’re lucky, maybe some people pop back in after you thought they were gone for good.

He kisses like Elliott Smith sings.

And then I kiss him for real, and he kisses me back, and his hands fist my hair. And we're kissing like it's breathing. My stomach flutters wildly. And somehow we end up horizontal, his hands curved up around my back. "I like this," I say, and my voice comes out breathless. "We should do this. Every day." "Okay." "Let's never do anything else. No school. No meals. No homework." "I was going to ask you to see a movie," he says, smiling. When he smiles, I smile. "No movies. I hate movies." "Oh, really?" "Really, really. Why would I want to watch other people kissing," I say, "when I could be kissing you?

God, Arthur.” He kisses me. “Te quiero. Estoy enamorado. You don’t even know.” And I don’t speak a word of Spanish, but when I look at his face, I get it.

Anyway, we have something for you.” “Is it another awkward anecdote about me breast-feeding?” “Oh my God, you were all about the boob,” my dad says. “I can’t believe you turned out to be gay.” “Hilarious, Dad.

I mean, here’s the thing I don’t get. How do people come to expect that their crushes will be reciprocated? Like, how does that get to be your default assumption?

Did you just tell us you're gay?" asks Nick. "Yes." "Okay," he says. Abby swats him. "What?" "That's all you're going to say? Okay?" "He said not to make a big deal out of it," Nick says. "What am I supposed to say?" "Say something supportive. I don't know. Or awkwardly hold his hand like I did. Anything." Nick and I look at each other. "I'm not holding your hand," I tell him, smiling a little. "All right" --he nods-- "but know that I would.

So, maybe I should let my heart break, just to prove that my heart can take it.

I can't help it. I'm a Slytherin." And I'm the worst kind of Slytherin. I'm the kind who's so stupidly in love with a Gryffindor, she can't even function. I'm the Draco from some shitty Drarry fic that the author abandoned after four chapters.

Leah.' Mom shakes her head. 'You've got to stop doing this.' 'Doing what?' 'Burning everything to the ground whenever something goes wrong.

You can't just like Harry Potter. You have to be balls-out obsessed with it.

I'm on the toilet at the 9:30 Club and I'm wondering how mermaids pee.

And this gay thing. It feels so big. It's almost insurmountable. I don't know how to tell them something like this and still come out of it feeling like Simon. Because if Leah and Nick don't recognize me, I don't even recognize myself anymore.

There’s just something terrifying about admitting you like someone. In a way, it’s actually easier when there’s no chance of anything happening. But there’s this threshold where things suddenly become possible. And then your cards are on the table. And there you are, wanting, right out in the open.

I’m not trying to overthink things. I’m trying to be less careful. But you have to be your heart’s own goalie.

I just need more time with me, I think. To really believe in my worth without anyone's help.

I used to think boners literally pointed in the direction of the person you're attracted to, like a compass. That would be helpful. Mortifying as fuck, but at least it would clarify things.

I don't get why that's so bad. Why shouldn't I want to be with someone who makes me feel worthy? Someone who wants to be with me for the long run?

I hate when writers make Draco sweet. Sorry, but Draco's a bitch. Own it. I mean, yeah, he's a ball of mush underneath, but you have to earn it with him.

I think every relationship is actually a million relationships.

Why would I want to watch other people kissing," I say, "when I could be kissing you?

People like me should come with a mute button.

Then he smiles and I smile. And then I blush and he lowers his eyes, and it’s like this entire pantomime of nervous gestures.

Apparently, Simon’s dad asked the tour guide at Duke to “please elaborate on the campus gay scene.” “I wanted to fucking die,” Simon told me.

Arthur, the universe just got the ball rolling,' he says. 'We made us happen.

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 Cassie - but that's the thing I'm most afraid of. Not mattering. Existing in a world that doesn't care who I am.

There's this tug in my chest. Because when Bram says Simon's name, he pronounces every part of it. Like it's worth being careful over.

It's like it doesn't even matter if I like my body, because there's always someone there to remind me I shouldn't.

I don't know how people do this. How Blue did this. Two words. Two freaking words, and I'm not the same Simon anymore.

I don’t feel like doing anything. I don’t even know what I need right now. I just want to feel normal.

The universe knew it was love before we did

She probably thinks Troye Sivan's songs are about girls.

I'm basically your resident fat Slytherin Rory Gilmore.

I mean, I think people have this mentality that sex is only real if it involves a penis.

RIP Leah Burke. She died of acute awkwardosis.

I am such a dick. Like, I'm an actual flaccid penis of a person.

I have a sneaking suspicion that you’re not 100% committed to your Oreo diet.

It is definitely annoying that straight (and white, for that matter) is the default, and that the only people who have to think about their identity are the ones who don’t fit that mold.

I was basically born knowing how to casually stalk people on social media.

I want to know what it feels like to have crushes that could conceivably maybe one day turn into boyfriends.

I think, for me, listening to music is a very solitary thing. Or maybe that’s just something people say when they’re too lame to go to live shows.

It was unicorns vomiting sunbeams.

But it sucks when life moves along without you. Sometimes I feel left out even when life's moving along with me.

I need to spend some time in my head with this new Simon. My parents have a way of ruining things like this. They get so curious. It's like they have this idea of me, and whenever I step outside of that, it blows their minds. There's something so embarrassing about that in a way I can't even describe.

The universe wouldn’t get us together for just one summer, right?

It's like there's this idea that you have to earn your label through suffering. And then you have to prove it with who you date, how you dress, how other people perceive you.

Even if he likes me, I’m not sure he’d like me naked. I hate that I’m even thinking that. I hate hating my body. Actually, I don’t even hate my body. I just worry everyone else might. Because chubby girls don’t get boyfriends, and they definitely don’t have sex. Not in movies—not really—unless it’s supposed to be a joke. And I don’t want to be a joke.

It’s weird, because Blue’s emails used to be this extra thing that was separate from my actual life. But now I think maybe the emails are my life. Everything else sort of feels like I’m slogging through a dream.

You may actually be the only person who gets more than 140 characters from me. That's kind of awesome, right?

But I know what it's like to be not good enough, in some bone-deep fundamental way.

I guess that’s any relationship. You start with nothing and maybe end with everything.

It’s like—you have this baby, and eventually, he starts doing stuff. And I used to be able to see every tiny change, and it was so fascinating.” She smiles sadly. “And now I’m missing stuff. The little things. And it’s hard to let go of that.

It's funny, because you always think the hard part is meeting someone the first time. It's not. It's the second time, because you've already used up all the obvious topics of conversation. And even if you haven't, it's strange and heavy-handed to introduce random conversational topics at this stage in the game. Hi, Reid. Let's converse about topics. HOW MANY SIBLINGS DO YOU HAVE? WHAT BOOKS DO YOU LIKE?

Honest to God, this is the absolute best kind of moment. The auditorium lights are off except for ones over the stage, and we're all bright eyed and giggle-drunk. I fall a little bit in love with everyone.

Leah once said that she’d rather have people call her fat directly than have to sit there and listen to them talking shit about some other girl’s weight. I actually think I agree with that. Nothing is worse than the secret humiliation of being insulted by proxy.

I can’t even help it. There’s just this thread of anticipation that I can’t seem to quell. So when the school day ends and nothing extraordinary has happened, it’s a tiny heartbreak. It’s like eleven o’clock on the night of your birthday, when you realize no one’s throwing you a surprise party after all.

So, I keep thinking about the idea of secret identities. Do you ever feel locked into yourself? I'm not sure if I'm making sense here. I guess what I mean is that sometimes it seems like everyone knows who I am except me.

Something like that. But you know, there's an upside here. Because when you spend so much time just intensely wanting something, and then you actually get the thing? It's magic.” All of a sudden, I feel like crying. In a good way. In the best way. Because I know exactly what she means. It's butterflies and haziness and heart eyes, but underneath all that, there's this bass line of I can't believe this. I can't believe this is me. I can't quite articulate the sweetness of that feeling. It's finding out the door you were banging on is finally unlocked. Maybe it was unlocked the whole time.

I think the way I feel about the internet is the way some people feel about the ocean. It's so huge and unknowable, but also totally predictable. You type a line of symbols and click enter, and everything you want to happen, happens. Not like real life, where all the wanting in the world can't make something exist.

You can’t imagine how much I hated middle school. Remember the way people would look at you blankly and say, “Um, okaaay,” after you finished talking? Everyone just had to make it so clear that, whatever you were thinking or feeling, you were totally alone. The worst part, of course, was that I did the same thing to other people. It makes me a little nauseated just remembering that.

He laces our fingers and shrugs. And I’m dead. I am actually dead. There’s no other way to explain it. I’m sitting in fucking Herald Square, holding hands with the cutest boy I’ve ever met, and I’m dead. I’m the deadest zombie ghost vampire who ever died. And now my mouth isn’t working. It's like I'm stunned into silence. That never happens.

Perfect! You guys are the same age. I bet you have a lot in common.” Classic adult logic. Reid and I are vaguely the same age, so of course we’re basically soul mates. It’s like horoscopes. Somehow I’m supposed to believe that I’m similar in some meaningful way to every single person born on my birthday. Or every single Sagittarius. I mean, I barely have anything in common with Cassie, and we were born six minutes apart.

And Leah’s also into slash fanfiction, which got me curious enough to poke around the internet and find some last summer. I couldn’t believe how much there was to choose from: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy hooking up in thousands of ways in every broom closet at Hogwarts. I found the ones with decent grammar and stayed up reading all night. It was a weird couple of weeks. That was the summer I taught myself how to do laundry. There are some socks that shouldn’t be washed by your mom.

Honestly, the weirdest part is how they made it feel like this big coming out moment. Which can't be normal. As far as I know, coming out isn't something that straight kids generally worry about. That's the thing people wouldn't understand. This coming out thing. It's not even about me being gay, because I know deep down that my family would be fine with it. We're not religious. My parents are Democrats. My dad likes to joke around, and it would definitely be awkward, but I guess I'm lucky. I know they're not going to disown me. And I'm sure some people in school would give me hell, but my friends would be fine. Leah loves gay guys, so she'd probably be freaking thrilled. But I'm tired of coming out. All I ever do is come out. I try not to change, but I keep changing, in all these tiny ways. I get girlfriends. I have a beer. And every freaking time, I have to reintroduce myself to the universe all over again.