And books are such an empowering way to give voice to some of these kids who aren't yet ready to tell their story. Or don't know what their story is, or are trying to figure it out.

We all mess up. It's what we learn from our mistakes that matters.

I think that ties in with issues of identity as well - that sometimes there are parts of us we want to hide, and then there's other times we say, "You know what? Nope. Done hiding that part."

She holds herself with such reserve. She smiles, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes, even in the company of the girls she's chosen to eat with. Why? I have no clue, and I really don't want to spend my time worrying about it. But my brain pushes at the question anyway. Why are people aloof? Because they don't want to let others in. Why don't they want to let others in? Well, sometimes because they're shy, and sometimes because they're convinced of their own superiority. But those aren't the only reasons. Sometimes it's because thay have something to hide.

I live in my own little world. But its ok, they know me here.

You know, this technology that we have, and the Internet and Twitter and Facebook - I get so many of those emails that talk about hard times that kids have gone through, how books have helped them, but also happy times.

You have to be nicer to me," I said. Again he laughed. "What? I'm the King of nice. What are you talking about?" "You have to be nicer to me or... or..." "Or what?" he said. Still Lars, still charming and jokey, but with a thread of fear. It snaked in and pierced my numbness and almost broke my resolve. Almost, but not quite. "Or I have ti break up with you." I whispered What was there more to say? Nothing. So I hung up.