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.

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

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

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

I'm afraid to live and afraid to die.

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 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.