You're sad-looking," she said. "My grandson used to be such a happy boy. He used to write me stories. I remember the first story he ever wrote me, 'Once upon a time, there was a boy.' And that became 'Once upon a time there was a boy who wanted to fly.' And they kept getting better and better over time. I never found out if the boy got to fly." I gave her a small smile. If only she knew the boy's wings had been clipped.

I was made fun of a lot in high school because of the way I sound and the way I was.

I was reading that lightning is a negative charge that comes from the friction that clouds carry. And since opposites attract, I would like to think that he was so positive the moment that he died, so happy, he pulled that bolt right out of the sky. I don’t know if that’s possible, but that’s what I believe.

People only love you as long as they're getting something of you, but the minute you say something they don't want to hear or do something they don't want to see, all the admiration drains from their hearts.

You'd think after thousands of years on this planet the human race would have released some kind of handbook for teenagers, telling them how to get through teenagehood and get help for their issues. Yet here we are, struggling through it in our own ways.

Every driven person comes from a mountain of pain they wish to keep hidden.

You’re not weak. Your life is not defined by a letter grade, a dress size, your sexuality or anything else. You have every chance at happiness. You were not meant to suffer. You are loved. Never, ever give up.