I want to be in fifth grade again. Now, that is a deep dark secret, almost as big as the other one. Fifth grade was easy -- old enough to play outside without Mom, too young to go off the block. The perfect leash length.

I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don’t want to die.

There is no safer. There’s not even safe, never has been.

I reach for funny books all the time to help me get through life.

It is my first morning of high school. I have seven new notebooks, a skirt I hate, and a stomachache.

They say they have noticed me drawing. I almost tell them right then and there. They noticed.

You can tell a book is real when your heart beats faster. Real books make you sweat. Cry, if no one is looking. Real books help you make sense of your crazy life. Real books tell it true, don't hold back and make you stronger. But most of all, real books give you hope. Because it's not always going to be like this and books-the good ones, the ones-show you how to make it better. Now.