In fact almost everyone in my yearbook wrote the same thing to me: "To weird girl, you're nice." I didn't think it was bad. When I showed my mother she said, "Everyone is different." Being weird became my tool. I'm weird; that's who I am. It was my coping badge.

Some people we define as trolls are just critics. Sometimes they have a point. And I hear them. But for the ones who comment "I want to kill you in your sleep," I respond to them too.

When someone writes something hateful and threatening I respond with something like, "I want to be so much like you; I want to wear your skin." By messing with them in that way you change what they're selling. They won't share it. And it halts the conversation. Or I'll change it to "Jenny, you're like a rose bush that grew a watermelon." They come back pissed off and write, "I didn't say that!"

It’s amazing how much you’re missing in a depressive state until you start to come out on the other side. It’s like breathing again after being underwater for far too long.

YOU are using a frisbee as a plate." "Uh, what? I'm not using a--oh hang on, this is a frisbee. Weird." Victor glared at me. "Dude, calm down, I'll wash it afterward. It's probably dishwasher safe.

...and whenever I had menstral cramps, I could just pretend that Voldemort was close.

One ox, two oxen. One fox, two foxen.