I wish I had cancer. I will burn in hell for that, but it’s true.
It is my first morning of high school. I have seven new notebooks, a skirt I hate, and a stomachache.
My first class is biology. I can’t find it and get my first demerit for wandering the hall. It is 8:50 in the morning. Only 699 days and 7 class periods until graduation.
I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don’t want to die.
It doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts except the small smiles and blushes that flash across the room like tiny sparrows.
There is something about Christmas that requires a rug rat. Little kids make Christmas fun. I wonder if could rent one for the holidays.
Why not draw naked guys, just to be fair? Naked women is art, naked guys a no-no, I bet. Probably because most painters are men.
I can see us, living in the woods, her wearing that A, me with a S maybe, S for silent, S for stupid, for scared. S for silly. For shame.
Because I am still a little girl who believes in Santa and the tooth fairy and you.
This camp is a forge for the army; it’s testing our mettle. Instead of heat and hammer, our trials are cold and hunger. Question is, what are we made of?
The only number that would ever be enough is 0. Zero pounds, zero life, size zero, double-zero, zero point. Zero in tennis is love. I finally get it.
To keep up appearances, I stomp my room and slam the door.
Emma is a mattress who got thrown off the truck when her parents split up. It’s not like you can blame a mattress when people don’t tie it down tight enough.
Do I want to die from the inside out or the outside in?
I am the space between my thighs, daylight shining through.
I won the wintergirl trip over the border into dangerland.
This is wonderful, wonderful! Be the bird. You are the bird. Sacrifice yourself to abandoned family values...
I wish adults would spend less energy freaking out about the cutting itself and work harder to understand what drives kids to self-harm.
I scared myself, because once you’ve thought long and hard enough about doing something that is colossally stupid, you feel like you’ve actually done it, and then you’re never quite sure what your limits are.
I pushed my ragged mouth against the mirror. A thousand crushed bleeding lips pushed back at me...