Will I ever get control of my life? Will I always be shoved back and pushed around by those I trust?

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.

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.

It was love because it was worth it.

A flood of emotions rushes into me. Pain and anger. Sadness and pity. But most surprising of all, hope.

It's nothing. A school project. My go-to answer for anything. Staying out late? School project. Need extra money? School project.

Josh turns to me. “I can’t believe she’s writing these things.” “Not she,” I say. “Me.” “Why would anyone say this stuff about themselves on the Internet? It’s crazy!” “Exactly,” I say. “I’m going to be mentally ill in fifteen years, and that’s why my husband doesn’t want to be around me.