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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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