Hannah was about to burst with excitement, which would have been disgusting because she would have sprayed blood, guts and glitter in every direction.

When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time.

I wish adults would spend less energy freaking out about the cutting itself and work harder to understand what drives kids to self-harm.

This is wonderful, wonderful! Be the bird. You are the bird. Sacrifice yourself to abandoned family values.

I stand in the center aisle of the auditorium, a wounded zebra in a National Geographic special, looking for someone, anyone to sit next to. A predator approaches: gray jock buzz cut, whistle around a neck thicker than his head. Probably a social studies teacher, hired to coach a blood sport.

I watch the Eruptions. Mount Dad, long dormant, now considered armed and dangerous. Mount Saint Mom, oozing lava, spitting flame. Warn the villagers to run into the sea.

I am the space between my thighs, daylight shining through.