By Jack Canfield
The teenager years are some of the most tough classes of existence; whereas whilst essentially the most enjoyable. fowl Soup for the Teenage Soul II is the guide for all young ones for surviving and succeeding in the course of those fascinating years. young ones will treasure this heartwarming selection of tales and locate convenience within the recommendation they provide. those inspirational tales are infused with braveness, desire, and knowledge; they give advice, sustenance, and recommendation to all kids dealing with difficult occasions and supply precise nourishment for the soul. With classes at the nature of friendship and love; the worth of appreciate for your self and others; facing matters corresponding to demise, suicide and the lack of love; and, most significantly, transforming into up, poultry Soup for the Teenage Soul II will satisfaction youngsters around the globe.
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Extra resources for Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul II. More Stories of Life, Love and Learning
We didn’t gossip though, we had a very serious heart-to-heart. . We talked about life, love and stuff like that. We grew closer that Saturday night and I’m not sure what happened or how it happened. But one thing is for sure, we will never look at life the same way and that is all because of a book called Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul. This Is Your Book Once again, this is your book. We are thrilled that this book contains more stories actually written by teenagers than the first one. We were so impressed with the stories and poems that were sent to us.
Writing poetry and stories. Oh, what kind of poetry? Sad? Usually. Of course, I don’t exactly dissuade them from the tortured writer concept they have of me, because at least I’m known for something. Maybe it’s negative, but it’s better than nothing, right? So let them think me forlorn. I have my own friends and I don’t really care what any of them think. Except him. . But a long time ago, I really was depressed. I’d just been dumped by my first boyfriend and felt really crappy. I thought about death and suicide a lot.
It’s nearly spring now. I’ll be a college sophomore soon. Rachel never writes. She said that we should leave it at that—whatever that meant. And her folks bought a house in Virginia, so I know she’s not coming back here. I listen to music more now, and I always look twice when I see a turquoise convertible, and I notice more things, like the color of the sky and the breeze as it blows through the trees. She is me, and I am her. Wherever she is, she knows that. I’m breathing her breath and dreaming her dreams, and when I run now, I run an extra mile for Rachel.