She didn't know whether she was running away from something or running to something, but she admitted that deep in her heart she wanted to go home.

I wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone in this whole world. I wouldn't hurt them physically or emotionally, how then can people so consistently do it to me? Even my parents treat me like I'm stupid and inferior and ever short. 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 really am only one infinitely small part of an aching humanity.

Nobody's talking to me, but nobody's hassling me either. I guess you can't have everything.

I can't believe that I changed so little. I expected to look old and hollow and gray, but I guess it's only me on the inside that has shriveled and deteriorated.

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

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