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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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 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?

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

...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...

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.

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.

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.

Kinky!

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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 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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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....

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.

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.

(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…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life is like an interview

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

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.

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

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

After all these years, I'm a wizard at detecting even the slightest hint of disappointment in others, and any amount at all is unbearable.

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.

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.

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

There is nothing unrealistic about the love that one man feels for another

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.

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

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

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.

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 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.

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?

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.

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

Life is an interview, Evan.

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

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

Positive outlook yields positive experience.

All I see is sky for forever.

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.

Dear Evan Hansen, and he comes closer to me as he sings the words “So what if it’s us, what if it’s us, and only us.” This song is so beautiful.

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?

That's just what I do. I ruin things. Always. Whether I want it or not. The thing I'm ruining can be the best thing in my life. And I'll know it, too. And I'll still be powerless to stop it. Or too scared.

—Debemos presentarnos ahí como si el puesto ya fuera nuestro. —Pero esto no es una entrevista de trabajo. Alana se baja los puños de la camisa hasta taparse las muñecas. —La vida entera es una entrevista de trabajo, Evan.

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.

All we see is sky for forever We let the world pass by for forever Feels like we could go on for forever This way This way All we see is light for forever ’Cause the sun shines bright for forever We could be all right for forever this way

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.

As torturous as it feels to be here in Connor’s private space, it’s probably the closest I’ve ever been to the truth of who he was. Besides the obvious differences between his bedroom and mine—my bed is half the size, my floors are carpeted, and my walls are painted light green—there are some striking similarities.

The me I am is not the me I was. Just like the me I am is not the me I will be

Today is going to be an amazing day, and here’s why. Because today, all you have to do is just be yourself.

He always is. Somehow. Day after day, he comes, the thought of him. Visions in the night. His name on my arm.

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

Sometimes you keep wishing for something to happen, and then, after so many times not getting the thing you wished for, you stop wishing, and that's when it suddenly happens.

There are a million and ten things from the subatomic to the cosmic that can rattle my nerve on a daily basis.

Every day that came before today was definitely not amazing, so why would I think today would be any different?

Mi nivel de torpeza es directamente proporcional al número de personas que me observan

It's so easy to feel alone, but Evan is exactly right, we're not alone.

How do you tell the sex of a chromosome? Pull down its genes.

He told me I was innocent. Which was the opposite of how I viewed myself, but something I felt was true in my heart. He saw me before I saw me.

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

CONNOR: Even if you’ve always been that Barely-in-the-background kind of guy EVAN/CONNOR: You still matter

All we see is sky for forever We let the world pass by for forever Feels like we could go on for forever This way

And I suddenly feel the branch give way I’m on the ground My arm goes numb I look around And I see him come to get me He’s come to get me And ev’rything’s okay

Apaguei todas as coisas que escrevi de manhã. Toda aquela besteira sobre ser verdadeiro comigo mesmo. Só escrevi aquilo porque pensei que soava bem. É claro que soava bem. Ficção sempre soa bem, mas não ajuda muito quando a realidade vem e joga você de cara no chão. Quando enrola sua língua, prendendo as palavras na sua cabeça. Quando deixa você almoçando sozinho.

Fact: I once did a search for "how to make friends" and I clicked on one of the videos that came up and I swear I didn't realize until the very end that I was watching a car commercial.

Mom turns away from the map and presents me with a face that is meant to be brave and carefree but looks exactly not those things. She's wounded but still standing. That makes two of us.

A gust of wind rattles the leaves of a black oak. That kind of tree, at that height, is probably older than my house. And yet, as mighty and proud as it looks, it still shakes in the wind.

We're weaving in between trees, careful not to disturb, on a mission. We mean no trouble. There are so many of us, the lonely souls. All of us who helped build this. Those who will watch it grow. Those we've lost. We march on together. Climbing, falling, soaring. Trying to get closer to the center of everything. Closer to ourselves. Closer to each other. Closer to something true.

I don't need you to sell me on reasons to want you I don't need you to search for the proof that I should You don't have to convince me You don't have to be scared you're not enough 'Cause what we've got going is good

Jake Hansen kissed her like a man who knew who he was and where he was going, like a man who worked hard and loved harder, who believed in second chances and forever, and who would never let the woman he held in his arms slip away.

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.

Because today all you have to do is just be yourself. But also confident. That’s important. And interesting. Easy to talk to. Approachable. And don’t hide, either. Reveal yourself to others. Not in a pervy way, don’t disrobe. Just be you—the true you. Be yourself. Be true to yourself.

My pills correct the chemicals, but Zoe is medicine for the soul. Her words mend my mangled world. "I wish we could have met now. Today. For the first time." Her eyes, bluer than the sky. "Me too." Maybe we are meeting for the first time. This is the truest me I can be. I'm just sorry I got here so late.

To sit back and watch is no longer possible. It never was, it turned out. I step onto the pristine grass. It feels like an invasion, but a voice inside reminds me to loosen up. I don't pretend that I knew him before, but he's always with me now. We're weaving in between trees, careful not to disturb, on a mission. We mean no trouble. There are so many of us, the lonely souls. All of us who helped build this. Those who will watch it grow. Those we've lost. We march on together. Climbing, falling, soaring. Trying to get closer to the center of everything. Closer to ourselves. Closer to each other. Closer to something true.

The next day the printer was back in place. Back on the desk, minus the tray. And on the job chart: I was the line leader. And Mrs. G had moves my seat closer to her desk. She gave me a little pad. If I had a problem or question, I could tear a blank page from the pad, crumple it into a ball and place it in the glass jar on her desk. She wouldn't stop teaching the class on my behalf. "I won't tolerate any more disruptions", she said. But she promised that if I placed a ball in the jar, she'd see it. And when the time was right, she would get to me. But I had to be patient. If I was she would listen. She would hear me. I would be heard.

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 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.

Even when the dark comes crashin’ through When you need a friend to carry you And when you’re broken on the ground You will be found So let the sun come streamin’ in ’Cause you’ll reach up and you’ll rise again Lift your head and look around You will be found You will be found You will be found You will be found You

Mas talvez só esteja fora de perigo nos meus sonhos e a verdadeira queda começa quando acordo.

I feared her rejection but I feared the strength of my feelings more. I still loved my wife but my dreams were being invaded by another woman and the ramifications of this frightened me. Evan, Finding Hope

Today is going to be a good day, and here's why, because today at least you're you, and that's enough.

The 2017-18 Broadway season offered a perfect example of the difference between the performative and psychological styles of acting in musicals. At the Shubert Theatre, veteran singer and comedienne Bette Midler returned to Broadway in a revival of Hello, Dolly!, a musical that demands above all star presence. To the delight of her fans, Midler played Bette Midler as Dolly. No one in the audience wanted her to be anyone else and the part didn’t demand the plumbing of psychological depth. A block away, young Ben Platt offered a powerful example of how a talented acting singer can create a believable character through speech and song in a musical. Platt’s performance in Dear Evan Hansen (Book, Steven Levenson; Music and lyrics, Benj Pasek and Justin Paul), has made him a star but Platt never breaks character, never acknowledges the audience. Ben Platt convincingly becomes Evan Hansen in both dialogue and song. Dear Evan Hansen is a post-Sondheim musical that demands intense acting as well as singing; Hello, Dolly! demands personality.

The me I am is not the me I was.

Today is going to be a good day and here's why. Because today, no matter what else, you're you..... And that's enough.

All we see is sky for forever We let the world pass by for forever Buddy, you and I for forever this way This way All we see is light ’Cause the sun burns bright We could be all right for forever this way Two friends True friends On a perfect day

JARED (Like a helpless, heartbroken little kid): Fuck you, Evan. Asshole.

You think you’re going to turn around all of a sudden and start telling everyone the truth? You can’t even tell yourself the truth. EVAN: What are you talking about? CONNOR: How did you break your arm? (A pall comes over Evan.) How did you break your arm, Evan? EVAN: I fell. CONNOR: Really? Is that what happened? EVAN (Less and less confident): I was, I lost my grip and I . . . I fell. CONNOR: Did you fall? Or did you let go?

You can get rid of me whenever you want. You can get rid of all of it. The Connor Project. The orchard. But then all that you’re going to be left with is . . . you.

His parents present themselves He wrote his suicide note to Evan Hansen, because he knew his family didn’t give a shit His parents, by the way, are insanely rich

Maybe some day, some other kid is going to be standing here, staring out at the trees, feeling so . . . 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. 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.

Dear Evan Hansen: Today is going to be a good day and here’s why. Because today, no matter what else, today at least . . . you’re you. No hiding, no lying. Just . . . you. And that’s . . . that’s enough.

Maybe this is what life after death feels like or maybe what it would feel like to fall into the internet.)

(Without warning, she kisses him. Stunned, he pulls away for a moment. He knows that this is the point of no return. There is no going back. He makes a decision. He kisses her. They kiss. They are reeling. The world is reeling.)

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

I’m sort of a tree expert now. Not to brag, but . . . (Jared says nothing.)

EVAN: Do you want to sign my cast? JARED: Why are you asking me? EVAN: Well, just, I thought, because we’re friends. JARED: We’re family friends. That’s like a whole different thing and you know it.

CONNOR: Now we can both pretend that we have friends. EVAN: Good point.

CONNOR: Is this yours? I found it on the printer. “Dear Evan Hansen.” That’s your name, right?

(Connor looks down at the paper.) CONNOR: “Because there’s Zoe.” (Realizing) Is this about my sister?

Dear Evan Hansen: It turns out, this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year. Because . . . why would it be? Oh I know. Because there’s Zoe. And all my hope is pinned on Zoe. Who I don’t even know and who doesn’t know me. But maybe if I did. Maybe if I could just talk to her, then maybe . . . maybe nothing would be different at all. 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, face it: would anybody even notice if I disappeared tomorrow? Sincerely, your best and most dearest friend, Me.

CONNOR: So. What happened to your arm? EVAN: Oh, I um, I fell out of a tree actually. CONNOR (Can’t help but laugh): You fell out of a tree? That is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Oh my God.

the only people that like high school are cheerleaders and football players and those people all end up miserable anyway.

ALANA: Oh my God. What happened to your arm? EVAN: Oh. Well. I broke it. I was climbing a tree . . . ALANA (Not listening at all): Oh really? My grandma broke her hip getting into the bathtub in July. That was the beginning of the end, the doctors said. Because then she died.

Jared Kleinman approaches Evan with the kind of practiced swagger only the deeply insecure can truly pull off.)

Dear Evan Hansen: Today is going to be an amazing day, and here’s why. Because today, all you have to do is just be yourself.

Literally, nothing I tell my parents is true and they have no idea.

EVAN (Nods): Connor loved skiing. ZOE: Connor hated skiing. EVAN: Well, right. That’s what I meant. Connor loved . . . talking about how much he hated skiing. (Zoe just stares at him.)

LARRY: We didn’t . . . we’d never heard your name before, Connor never . . . but then we saw . . . “Dear Evan Hansen.” EVAN: He, um, he gave this to you? LARRY: We didn’t know that you two were friends. EVAN: Friends? LARRY: We didn’t think that Connor had any friends. And then we see this note and it’s, this seems to suggest pretty clearly that you and Connor were, or at least for Connor, he thought of you as . . .

Connor” in a Sharpie scrawl. Cynthia turns to Larry, her eyes welling with tears of astonishment.) His best and most dearest friend.

JARED: Yeah, I hate to tell you this, Evan, but you may have already perjured yourself.

EVAN: I remember a lot of good things about Connor. (All eyes turn to him at once, as he realizes what he’s done.)

JARED: His parents think you were lovers. You realize that, right? EVAN: What? Why would they think that? JARED: Um. You were best friends but he wouldn’t let you talk to him at school? And when you did, he kicked your ass? That’s like the exact formula for secret gay high school lovers. EVAN: Oh my God.

JARED: Are we done yet? EVAN: I can’t just show them one email. JARED: Okay. Please stop hyperventilating. EVAN: I’m not hyperventilating. JARED: You’re having considerable trouble breathing. EVAN: I’m having no trouble breathing. JARED: Do you need a paper bag to breathe in? EVAN: I am NOT HYPERVENTILATING.

CONNOR: My sister’s hot. EVAN (To Jared): What the hell? JARED: My bad.

JARED: There is nothing unrealistic about the love that one man feels for another.

(Evan kisses her. It’s impulsive and rash and he does it before he even thinks about it She pulls away, stunned.)

EVAN: I’m sorry. ZOE: You really don’t have to keep saying that. (Beat.) EVAN: Okay. (Beat.) ZOE: You want to say it again, don’t you? EVAN: Very much so, yes.