Rumors are spread by jealous people

Do they choose to be so dense? Were they born that way? I have no friends. I have nothing. I say nothing. I am nothing.

When life sucks, read. They can't yell at you for that. And if they do, then you can ignore them.

I have entered high school with the wrong hair, the wrong clothes, the wrong attitude. And I don't have anyone to sit with.

This camp is a forge for the army; it's testing our mettle. Instead of heat and hammer, our trials are cold and hunger. Question is, what are we made of?

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.

In one aspect, yes, I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves.