It is my first morning of high school. I have seven new notebooks, a skirt I hate, and a stomachache.

Death is funny, when you think about it. Everybody does it, but nobody knows how, exactly how.

He says a million things without saying a word. I have never heard a more eloquent silence.

You’re not dead, but you’re not alive, either. You’re a wintergirl.

The stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking didn't make her skinny, it made her cry.

I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don’t want to die.

The one good thing about being kind of shy is that nobody bugs you when you want to be left alone.