Set fire to the broken pieces; start anew.

He looks at me, and I don't know what he sees. I used to think it was Rose. But she's not here with us now, in this room. It's just him and me, and the books. I feel like our lives are in those books. I feel like all the words on the pages are for us.

There are so many of us, so many girls. The world wants us for our wombs or our bodies, or it doesn't want us at all.

The seeds are tiny, unborn things, and I resent them. They'll be planted and they'll grow into exactly what they're meant to be.

Kettle thingies. Yum.

Every star has been set in the sky. We mistakenly think they were put there for us.

I want to make the world into something better so that he can be okay.