Will Grayson, Will Grayson Isolation Quotes

I don't regret writing the letter in the least, but I regret signing it. Signing it was a clear violation of the rule about shutting up, and look where it got me: alone on a Tuesday afternoon, staring at my black Chuck Taylors. (1.30)

i sit with derek and simon at lunch. the way it is with us, it's like we're sitting in a waiting room. every now and then we'll say something, but mostly we stick to our own chair-sized spaces. occasionally we'll read magazines. if someone comes over, we'll look up. but that doesn't happen often. we ignore most of the people who walk by, even the ones we're supposed to lust after. it's not like derek and simon are into girls. basically, they like computers.

derek: do you think the X18 software will be released before summer?
simon: i read on trustmaster's blog that it might. that would be cool.
me: here's your homework back.

when i look at the guys and girls at the other tables, i wonder what they could possibly have to say to each other. they're all so boring and they're all trying to make up for it by talking louder. i'd rather just sit here and eat. (2.28-30)

i haven't told anyone about isaac because it's none of their business. i love that he knows who everyone is but nobody knows who he is. if i had actual friends that i felt i could talk to, this might cause some conflict. but since right now there'd only need to be one car to take people to my funeral, i think it's okay. (2.56)

i totally don't get this—is there anything more boring and pathetic than setting the table when there are only two of you? i mean, with place mats and salad forks and everything. who is she kidding? i would give anything not to have to spend the next twenty minutes sitting across from her, because she doesn't believe in letting silence go. no, she has to fill it up with talk. i want to tell her that's what the voices in your head are for, to get you through all the silent parts. but she doesn't want to be with her thoughts unless she's saying them out loud. (2.62)

In this moment, I could beat the holy living s*** out of Tiny Cooper. And I would, I swear to God, except I'm too busy trying to disappear.

I'm sitting here thinking, God, I swear I will take a vow of silence and move to a monastery and worship you for all my days if you just this once provide me with an invisibility cloak, come on come on, please please invisibility cloak now now now. It's very possible that Jane is thinking the same thing, but I have no idea, because she's not talking either, and I can't look at her on account of how I'm blinded by embarrassment. (3.52-53)

early on, isaac let me know that he always finds pauses awkward—if too much time went by without me responding, he'd think i was typing something else in another window, or had left the computer, or was IMing twelve other boys besides him. and i had to admit that i felt the same fears. so now we do this thing whenever we're pausing. we just type

grayscale: i'm here
boundbydad: i'm here
grayscale: i'm here
boundbydad: i'm here (4.67-68)

And here's the thing: they go. They just get back into line and then I watch them walk into the club, and neither of them even tries to say no, no, we don't want to see the show without you.

Don't get me wrong. The band is great. But being passed over for the band still sucks. Standing in line I hadn't felt cold, but now it's freezing. It's miserable out, the kind of cold where breathing through your nose gives you brain freeze. And I'm out here alone with my worthless f***ing hundred-dollar ID. (5.134-135)

tiny: let's go somewhere you like to go. where should we go? take me somewhere that matters to you.
me: like what?
tiny: like . . . i don't know. for me, if i need to feel better, i go alone to super target. i don't know why, but seeing all of those things makes me happy. it's probably the design. i don't even have to buy anything. just seeing all the people together, seeing all the things i could buy—all the colors, aisle after aisle—sometimes i need that. for jane, it's this indie record store we'll go to so she can look at old vinyl while i look at all the boy band cds in the two-dollar bin and try to figure out which one i think is the cutest. or the other will grayson—there's this park in our town, where all the little league teams play. and he loves the dugout, because when no one else is around, it's really quiet there. when there's not a game on, you can sit there and all that exists are the things that happened in the past. i think everyone has a place like that. you must have a place like that. (16.76)

my hand is shaking so much that i drop the keys before i finally get them in the door. the house is empty. i am empty. i try to eat. i try to crawl into bed. nothing works. i do feel things. i feel everything. and i need to know i'm not alone. so i'm getting out the phone. i'm not even thinking about it. i'm pressing the number and i'm hearing the ring and as soon as it's answered, i'm shouting into the phone:

me: I LOVE YOU. DO YOU HEAR ME, I LOVE YOU?

i'm screaming it, and it sounds so angry and so frightened and so pathetic and desperate. on the other end of the phone, my mother is asking me what's wrong, where am i, what's happening, and i'm telling her that i'm at home and that everything's a mess, and she's saying she'll be home in ten minutes, will i be okay for ten minutes? (16.116-118)

the sucky part is that the moment always comes when i take the next breath. i can only push myself so far.

i've given up on hearing from tiny. i hurt him, he hates me—it's as simple as that. and now that he's not texting me, i realize that no one else texts me. or messages me. or cares.

now that he isn't into me, i realize that no one else is all that into me, either. (18.2-4)