Beatrice sparks

Why is life so difficult? Why can't we be just ourselves and have everyone accept us the way we are?

Maybe the new me will be different.

I really am only one infinitely small part of an aching humanity.

My biggest mistake: not wanting to help myself into thinking I am happy, that change would come about without really trying to change, or wanting to change. Procrastinating about changing. I do want to change.

The voice of every kid hooked on drugs, alcohol or the occult joins the sad chorus "Not me! I didn't think it could ever happen to me. I was sure I could handle it.

I’ve got to sleep. Sleep is my only way to escape.

I guess I'll never measure up to anyone's expectations. I surely don't measure up to what I'd like to be.

Nobody's talking to me, but nobody's hassling me either. I guess you can't have everything.

I pretend I've got lots of confidence and I'm a big jock and like that but deep inside I'm a frightened, insecure, can't-make-it failure.

I feel like Alice in Wonderland. Maybe Lewis G Carroll was on drugs too.

Sometimes fantasies are better than life.

This morning when I left Mom's parting words were, "Come straight home after school." Wow! Like I'm going to get stoned at 3:30—it doesn't sound so bad at that.

The same old dumb teachers teaching the same old dumb subjects in the same old dumb school. I seem to be kind of losing interest in everything. At first I thought high school would be fun but it's just dull. Everything's dull. Maybe it's because I'm growing up and life is becoming more blase.

The complete bottom has fallen out of my life.

I'm afraid to live and afraid to die.

I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books.

How is it possible for me to be so miserable and embarrassed and humiliated and beaten an function still talk and smile and concentrate?

They have accepted me as an individual, as a personality, as an entity. I belong! I am important! I am somebody!

I can't believe that I changed so little. I expected to look old and hollow and gray, but I guess it's only me on the inside that has shriveled and deteriorated.

They don’t think “I care,” “I hurt,” or “I have feelings.” It just seems like I’m always “wrong,” always “selfish,” always “self-centered” and everything else that’s negative and destructive.

It's a good thing most people bleed on the inside or this would be a gory, blood-smeared earth.

She didn't know whether she was running away from something or running to something, but she admitted that deep in her heart she wanted to go home.

Lying - remembering beauty in truth.

I'm partly somebody else trying to fit in and say the right things and do the right thing and be in the right place and wear what everybody else is wearing. Sometimes I think we're all trying to be shadows of each other, trying to buy the same records and everything even if we don't like them. Kids are like robots, off an assembly line, and I don't want to be a robot!

Alone. The saddest word in the world.

How can thoughts hurt so much when they aren't even physical?

I would like to stay stoned all the time, it scares me it’s so good. I would like to stay stoned every minute of every day for the rest of my life.

I wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone in this whole world. I wouldn't hurt them physically or emotionally, how then can people so consistently do it to me? Even my parents treat me like I'm stupid and inferior and ever short. I guess I'll never measure up to anyone's expectations. I surely don't measure up to what I'd like to be.

I bet the pill is harder to get than drugs--which shows how screwed up this world really is!

one day I'll be old, without ever having really been young

I’m really cracking. No, I’m beyond cracking. I’m shattered. I’m lost. I’m fragmented.

Author details

Beatrice Sparks: Biography and Life Work

Beatrice Sparks was a notable Author. The story of Beatrice Sparks began on January 15, 1917 in Goldburg, Idaho, U.S.. The legacy of Beatrice Sparks continues today, following their passing on May 25, 2012 in Provo, Utah, U.S..

Beatrice Sparks , born Beatrice Ruby Mathews (January 15, 1917 – May 25, 2012) was an American writer and hoaxer. She was an alleged Mormon youth counselor; more famously, she became an author and serial con artist, known primarily for producing books purporting to be the "real diaries" of troubled teenagers. The books deal with topical issues such as drug abuse, Satanism , teenage pregnancy, and AIDS , and are presented as cautionary tales .

Philosophical Views and Reflections

When Go Ask Alice became a bestseller with several million copies sold, Sparks received substantial royalties, but as an aspiring author she was frustrated that her name was not on the book. In interviews conducted over the next few years, Sparks identified herself as the book's editor and claimed that it consisted partly of the actual diary of a troubled teen, and partly of embellished events based on Sparks's experiences working with other teens. Sparks was unable to produce the original diary for critics, and investigator Alleen Pace Nelson publicly questioned the book's veracity and verifiability. Later editions of the book contained the standard disclaimer: "This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental."

All but one of these books were published with the byline "Anonymous". Some of them credit Sparks as editor; others (such as Go Ask Alice ) do not mention her at all. Almost Lost and Kim – Empty Inside are the only books for which Sparks does not claim copyright as author of the entire work. For both these books, Sparks lays claim only to the editing, compilation, and some (unspecified) additional material. Copyright Office record for Kim – Empty Inside adds the note that some material is taken from a preexisting diary.

EQ
Empery Quotes
Inspire · Reflect · Repeat