Evan Hansen Quotes

I do stupid things when I'm nervous, which means I'm constantly doing stupid things.

I wish that everything was different. I wish that I was a part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered, to anyone. I mean, let's face it: would anybody even notice if I disappeared tomorrow?

The me I am is not the me I was.

I'm much better at interpreting books and stories than I am at understanding the decisions made by living, breathing people.

Also, i realized that avoiding people didn't actually ease any of my anxieties. Out there in the woods, i still had to live with myself.

When you're falling in a forest and there's nobody around Do you ever really crash, or even make a sound?

Really, though, what do i know about what another person is capable of? I still don't have a clue what i'm capable of. I keep surprising even myself.

I'm left with a loneliness so overpowering it threatens to seep from my eyes. I have no one. Unfortunately, that's not fantasy. That's all-natural, 100 percent organic, unprocessed, reality.

I laugh plenty. I mean, i laughed plenty. I laughed at how absurdly fucked everything is. I laughed because there's not much else you can do. You can laugh or you can cry. I'd do plenty of both.

Even when the dark comes crashing through, when you need someone to carry you, when you're broken on the ground, you will be found.

Fantasies always sound good, but they're no help when reality comes and shoves you to the ground. When it trips up your tongue and traps the right words in your head. When it leaves you to eat lunch by yourself.

Burning is the right way to paint it. You feel yourself getting so hot, day after day. Hotter and hotter. It gets to be too much. Even for stars. At some point they fizzle out or explode. Cease to be. But if you're looking up at the sky, you don't see it that way. You think those stars are still there. Some aren't. Some are already gone. Long gone. I guess, now, so am I.

How many times in life do you get to just start all over again?". That does sound tempting, actually. Can i start over today?

If the pain is in you, it's in you. It follows you everywhere. Can't outrun it. Can't erase it. Can't push it away; it only comes back. The way I've been thinking, after all that's happened, maybe there's only one way to survive it. You have to let it in. Let it hurt you.

I looked up once more, at the whole world; it was beautiful, I knew it was, but I wasn't a part of it. I was never going to be a part of it.

I also know that when you’re not in the best headspace, the trivial can turn into the insurmountable

Even when it feels . . . hopeless. Like everything is telling him to let go. This time, maybe this time, he won’t let go. He’ll just . . . hold on and he’ll keep going. He’ll keep going until he sees the sun.

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

No one should ever feel they have to suffer in silence. We need to keep talking about mental health and continue to reach out to those who might be suffering.

Maybe, someday, some other kid is going to be standing here, staring out at the trees, feeling alone, wondering if maybe the world might look different from all the way up there. Better. Maybe he’ll start climbing, one branch at a time, and he’ll keep going, even when it seems like he can’t find another foothold. Even when it feels hopeless. Like everything is telling him to let go. Maybe this time he won’t let go. This time he’ll hold on. He’ll keep going.

You're born and you keep getting older and grayer and sicker, and no matter what efforts you make to reverse the process, you die, every single time. To repeat: worse, worse, worse, and then death. I have a long way to go before the worst. This is only the beginning.

Is it possible that I actually appear to them as hollow and immaterial as I feel inside?

To the ground I fall. I can never stay aloft too long. Not when there's an ugly and heavy truth always dragging me back down.

I was lucky. That's what everyone told me. I didn't feel very lucky, lying there in the most excruciating physical pain of my life.

I felt swallowed by the swarm. Surrounded by all these people and somehow lonelier than ever. None of them saw me or knew me. The only one who ever did I'd pushed away.

Why would he do this? I mean, i understand how low a person can get. I also know that when you're not in the best headspace, the trivial can turn into the insurmountable and all of sudden you're heading down a dark path and you can't find your way back.

just wish that life, for once, for a day or even a few hours, would go smoothly.

...I was just lying there on the ground, waiting for someone to come get me. 'Any second now', i kept thingking. 'Any second now'. But yea, nobody came, so...

It became this thing that followed me arround. The logline to my movie, telling people what to expect of me. telling me what to expect of myself. I was the villain. that was my role.

Thank you Evan Hansen

Now i'm home again and none of my usuals methods of escape are doing the trick. I tend to watch a lot of movies. Ideally, documentaries about loners, outcats, pioneers. Give me a cult leader, obscure historical figures, dead musicians. I want to see a misunderstood person who someone is finally taking the time to understand.

My stomach was a hot puddle of nerves, had been for a week straight. I couldn't take it anymore. But to get rid of it once and for all, i had to do the brave thing. That's where my plan failed. I couldn't do it. I'm not brave. I'm extremely not brave.

Kinky!

Seventeen years later and she’s still trying to tweak me just a little bit more to her liking.

I had to die for them to notice I was ever alive.

I just have this feeling sometimes that even the best therapist in the world couldn't fix me.

Dear Evan Hansen, Sorry I’ve been out of touch. Things have been crazy.

Even for stars. At some point they fizzle out or explode. Cease to be. But if you’re looking up at the sky, you don’t see it that way. You think all those stars are still there. Some aren’t. Some are already gone. Long gone. I guess, now, so am I.

It reminds me of that saying: “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” I guess that means we’re just products of whoever made us and we don’t have much control. The thing is, when people use that phrase, they ignore the most critical part: the falling. Within the logic of that saying, the apple falls every single time. Not falling isn’t an option. So, if the apple has to fall, the most important question in my mind is what happens to it upon hitting the ground? Does it touch down with barely a scratch? Or does it smash on impact? Two vastly different fates. When you think about it, who cares about its proximity to the tree or what type of tree spawned it? What really makes all the difference, then, is how we land.

I am alone, the way I deserve to be. The way I'm meant to be. A fucking nothing. Unworthy to the core. How could I fool myself into thinking I could be deserving of anything close to happiness?

Wich begs the question: Why am i here? To wich there is only one answer: I don't know. The choices always seem to be fight or flight, but i typically end up somewhere in between, doing exactly neither. I stay and take the beating.

But really, what was the point of going to school? They nevver knew what to do with me. If you don't fit into once of their boexes, you get tossed aside. I could learn way more at home. Reading my own books and watching Vice . At least when i was at Hanover i could mention Nietzsche with out a teacher staring back with a blank look

I mean, he wasn't really there, but in my mind, it was like he was, and all of a sudden that same day wasn't such a nightmare. It was something else.

And when you're broken on the ground, you will be found.

No one should Flicker out or have any doubt That it matters that they are here

That’s what happens when people leave, I think. When they’re gone, you don’t have to be reminded of all the bad things. They can just stay the way you want them forever. Perfect.

The feeling of almost drowning is even worse than actually drowning. Actually drowning is peace. Almost drowning is pure pain.

Meh is basically a shoulder shrug, and that pretty much sums up the reaction I get from society at large.

I just want to be alone, the way I've always been. I don't want to be bothered or noticed or questioned. But that's just wishful thinking.

About our lives. Where we were. Where we were going. What would happen after school. We didn't know exactly. We just knew we'd figure it out. We'd have each other's backs. Whatever it was....

I walked to my window. It's pirch-dark outside. For the most part, I've always preffered night to day. At night, it's okay to be hunkered down in your house. During the day, people expect you to be out and about. You can start to feel pretty guilty about wasting so much time indoors.

Thinking about it now, i have to say, nothing terrible comes to mind. No blowup fights or traumatic episodes. that's usually what happens when i dig too deep into memories. The worst stuff pops up first.

The me I am is not the me I was. Just like the me I am is not the me I will be. Those versions of myself I can't change or predict. I'm not even sure I have much influence over the present me. But it's all I've got. I probably shouldn't fight it.

If the pain is in you, it’s in you. It follows you everywhere. Can’t outrun it. Can’t erase it. Can’t push it away; it only comes back. The way I’ve been thinking, after all that’s happened, maybe there’s only one way to survive it. You have to let it in. Let it hurt you. And don’t wait. It’ll reach you eventually. Might as well be now.

But really, what was the point of going to school? They never knew what to do with me. If you don't fit into once of their boxes, you get tossed aside. I could learn way more at home. Reading my own books and watching Vice.

I thought it was uncomfortable, when I was younger, watching my own parents argue. Turns out, watching other people’s parents do it is exponentially more awkward

(He introduced me to a ton of books and authors. I never returned his copy of The Mysteries of Pittsburgh.)

Talk to me," she says. It's not a command. It's a welcome mat. All I have to do is step to her.

He doesn't think i'm worth the effort. I couldn't agree more. Anyway, i'm grateful. I'm not sure i could survive another fall today.

Um, not anymore. They belong to everyone now. I mean, that’s the whole point. And the more private they are, the better.

I also know that when you’re not in the best headspace, the trivial can turn into the insurmountable and all of a sudden you’re heading down a dark path and you can’t find your way back.

Before all this, i was alone, but i still had a few squeezes left in my tube of hope. Connor Murphy wasn't a part of my daily life. He, like me, existed in the background. Our paths didn't cross, and if they did, neither of us noticed.

I know that look. When your insides are about to pour right out of you and it’s too late to stop it. You’re naked, everyone watching. They see you there, defenseless, and they pounce. No mercy.

(There was no deer in the road that night. I can come clean about that now. I crashed into that tree because I felt like it. My messiest decisions were always like that. Made in a split second. Nine times out of ten I’d walk away only wounded. Then, on the tenth time…)

Dear Evan Hansen, Today is going to be a good day, and here’s why. Because it isn’t supposed to rain like yesterday and that’s good because I didn’t have to pack my umbrella and my backpack feels a little lighter. Sincerely, Me

You fell out of a tree? What are you, an acorn?

Literally one day he’s pinned over someone’s heart and the next he’s tossed in the garbage.

I think grief can make you do weird things. Things you wouldn’t do normally.

In a single day filled with so many moments, the world ends and it carries on.

I lean back against a roadside tree. A tree. Another fucking tree. They’re everywhere, these soaring reminders.

Cause all that it takes is a little reinvention It’s easy to change if you give it your attention All you gotta do Is just believe you can be who you wanna be Sincerely, me

But see, the thing is, when I looked up . . . Connor was there. That’s the gift that he gave me. To show me that I wasn’t alone. To show me that I matter. That everybody does.

Dad is a word you have to be careful about using in our house,

Life is like an interview

The choices always seem to be fight or flight, but I typically end up somewhere in between, doing exactly neither. I stay and I take the beating.

All I want to do is climb into bed and hide under the covers.

She dresses like she's the dean of a small liberal arts college, and she probably could be. Not only does she relish following the rules, but she's also the only one who even knows what they are.

I suppose this is what i get for building my walls so high. My family never actually knew about my life. Occasionally i'd reference a friend( going out with a friend; got it from a friend). But i don't think they believed me. Especially when i never forked over a name.

There are a million and ten things from the subatomic to the cosmic that can rattle my nerves on a daily basis, and one of those things is my initials. M.E.H. Like the word: meh. Meh is basically a shoulder shrug, and that pretty much sums up the reaction I get from society at large.

I hold my breath, try to freeze time, thinking if I can just keep the air inside my lungs forever, maybe I'll never have to face what comes next. But I breathe, because I'm weak and I must, and when I open my eyes, and everyone is looking at me, and I know it's only begun: the end of everything. But there's no way out now.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I guess that means we're just products of whoever made us and we don't have much control. The thing is, when people use that phrase, they ignore the most critical part: the falling. Within the logic of that saying, the apple falls every single time. Not falling isn't an option. So, if the apple has to fall, the most important question in my mind is what happens to it upon hitting the ground? Does it touch down with barely a scratch? Or does it smash on impact? Two vastly different fates. When you think about it, who cares about its proximity to the tree or what type of tree spawned it? What really makes all the difference, then, is how we land.

I used to think that the idea of a soul mate was the most ludicrous drivel I’d ever heard, but maybe not. Maybe it’s beyond our understanding and maybe Zoe is my one true match.

I shrink from her, ashamed, and yet also wishing she’d never let go. How can a mother’s touch do that? Help and hurt all at once?

Even when the dark comes crashing through, when you need a friend to carry you, and when you’re broken on the ground, you will be found

People will risk everything for a little bit of something beautiful ,

Life is an interview, Evan.

Of course it sounded good. Fantasies always sound good, but they’re no help when reality comes and shoves you to the ground.

I’m left with a loneliness so overpowering it threatens to seep from my eye.

What a concept, saying exactly what you feel without stopping to second-guess.

He let it all out. What he’d been carrying. Everything. But he’s still not free. Still has himself to deal with. Always the hardest one to face.

Jared’s a dick, but he’s my dick—I mean, no, that’s not what I mean, not like that.

All I see is sky for forever.

Connor, you keep taking shortcuts, you're going to lose the trail eventually, and pretty soon you're going to end up somewhere you don't want to be with no idea how to find your way home.

You have no idea how many mistakes I’ve made.” “Of course I don’t. No parent knows what their kid is really up to. Ask Cynthia. None of us are saints. We’re all just doing the best we can.

I wish that everything was different. I wish that I was a part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered, to anyone. I mean, let’s face it: would anybody even notice if I disappeared tomorrow?

I am not a New Yorker. There are so many unspoken rules when you live here, like the way you're never supposed to stop in the middle of the sidewalk or stare dreamily up at the tall buildings or pause to read graffiti. No giant folding maps, no fanny packs, no eye contact. No humming songs from Dear Evan Hansen in public. And you're definitely not supposed to take selfies at street corners, even if there's a hot dog stand and a whole line of yellow taxis in the background, which is eerily how you always pictured New York. You're allowed to silently appreciate it, but you have to be cool. From what I can tell, that's the whole point of New York: being cool.

How can she know me when I don’t even know me? What I say, what I think, I can’t decide which parts are real and which are made-up. I try, over and over, to reach myself. How is that even possible when I’m already here, walking in my own skin?

I was certain of one thing: how I felt when I was around him and when I wasn’t. The first was exhilarating. The other unbearable. Being with him was like being hooked on a drug. When we stopped seeing each other, I went into withdrawal. It was a long, dark summer.

Panic has a salty taste. It’s like I’m standing in a small glass tank and the tank is filling up with water. I’m guessing the water is coming from the sea, because of the saltiness. The seawater rushes into the tank. It’s already at my mouth, and in a moment it will cover my face and I’ll drown. There’s no way out of the tank. All I can do is wait as the water surrounds me. I stretch my neck up for that last bit of air. I’m gasping. And then, when I can barely catch my breath, it stops. The water recedes, always. I never end up drowning, but it doesn’t matter. The feeling of almost drowning is even worse than actually drowning. Actually drowning is peace. Almost drowning is pure pain.

He had given work to a nightwalker named Dorothy Evans and gradually became beguiled by her. She was a plump, pretty, cattleman's daughter, pale as a cameo, with the sort of overripe body that always seems four months pregnant. Her long brown hair was braided into figure eights and pinned up over her ears in the English country-girl style. Grim experience was in her eyes, many years of pouting shaped her lips, but everything else about her expression seemed to evince an appealing cupidity, as if she could accept anything as long as it was pleasing.