My scars show pain and suffering, but they also show my will to survive. They're part of my history that'll always be there.

You can see when someone's been hurt the way I was. It's obvious. Something changes in their eyes; pain becomes their center, even when they try to hide it.

Other times, I look at my scars and see something else: a girl who was trying to cope with something horrible that she should never have had to live through at all. My scars show pain and suffering, but they also show my will to survive. They're part of my history that'll always be there.

The lack of human voices really gets to me. I never realized that we need to talk with other people just to know that we exist. That we matter. Loneliness is a howling, empty cavern inside of me that just keeps growing.

If I don’t do what feels right to me, what I need and want to do, then am I really living?

I know you're upset, I know you're scared, but don't walk away.

I hate my body Hate what it remembers. Hate what it let him do.