Everything seemed good, but I knew it had the potential to be awful.

I tried getting my dad to buy me a beeper for my birthday,” he says, “but he thinks only doctors and drug dealers need them.

I've always loved brainstorming with other writers, and I consider having my work critiqued a part of that brainstorming.

This was not a spurr-of-the-moment decision. Do not take me for granted... again.

I’m sorry.” Once again, those were the words. And now, anytime someone says I’m sorry, I’m going to think of her.

Betrayal. It's one of the worst feelings.

Maybe it didn’t seem like a big deal to you Zach. But now, I hope you understand. My world was collapsing. I needed those notes. I needed any hope those notes might have offered. And you? You took that hope away. You decided I didn’t deserve to have it.