I am angry that I starved my brain and that I sat shivering in my bed at night instead of dancing or reading poetry or eating ice cream or kissing a boy.

I wish America would stop judging and criticizing teens and instead, try to understand the battles they have to fight every day.

Revision means throwing out the boring crap and making what’s left sound natural.

I smile and play pretend through the Morning Show in the kitchen.

I know my head isn't screwed on straight. I want to leave, transfer, warp myself to another galaxy. I want to confess everything, hand over the guilt and mistake and anger to someone else. There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs. Even if I dump the memory, it will stay with me, staining me. My closest is a good thing, a quiet place that helps me hold these thoughts inside my head where no one can hear them.

You have to know what you stand for, not just what you stand against.

It's a shame we can't just admit that we failed family living, sell the house, split up the money, and get on with our lives.