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.

A breath of steam trickles out, filled with the sobs of a grown woman breaking into girl-sized pieces.

They yell at me because I can't see what they see. Nobody can explain to me why my eyes work different than theirs.

Do I want to die from the inside out or the outside in?

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

I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So, how can I find my way? Is there a chain saw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears?

I smile and play pretend through the Morning Show in the kitchen.