Sometimes I think high school is one long hazy activity: if you are tough enough to survive this, they'll let you become an adult. I hope it's worth it.

I make it through the first two weeks of school without a nuclear meltdown.

I don't just use yarn from a store. I buy old sweaters from consignment shops. The older the better, and unravel them. There are countries of women in this scarf/shawl/blanket. Soon it will be big enough to keep me warm.

I stuff my mouth with old fabric and scream until there are no sounds left under my skin.

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

Grandma frowned and yelled something in Russian. She could have been saying, 'Open up, your best friend is here.' On the other hand, it could have been, 'America is a great country because of canned ravioli.

Art without emotion its like chocolate cake without sugar. It makes you gag.