Who wants to recover? It took me years to get that tiny. I wasn't sick; I was strong.

There is something about Christmas that requires a rug rat. Little kids make Christmas fun. I wonder if could rent one for the holidays.

I wonder how long it would take for anyone to notice if I just stopped talking.

Emma hears me come up the stairs and asks me to watch a movie with her. I stick Band-Aids on my weeping cuts, put on pink pajamas so we match, and snuggle with her under her rainbow comforter. She arranges all of her stuffed animals around us in a circle, everyone facing the TV, then presses play...Ghosts dare not enter here.

Eating was hard. Breathing was hard. Living was hardest.

I would never be popular. I didn't want to be; I liked being shy. I'd never be the smartest or the hottest or the happiest. By eighth grade you start to figure out your limits.

Didn't help to ponder things that were forever gone. It only made a body restless and fill up with bees, all wanting to sting something.