I didn't tell him I was a virgin, just that I hadn’t done it “that much.” It hurt a little more than I'd expected but in a different way, and he was nervous too and he never came. Afterwards we lay there and talked, and I could tell he was a really nice person. I commended myself for making a healthy, albeit hasty, partner choice. I really couldn't wait to tell my mom.

But I want to tell my stories, more than that, I have to in order to stay sane.

I sometimes want to make a book of every tattoo I wanted to get before I actually got a tattoo, because there were so many awful ideas and concepts.

Don't wait around for someone else to tell your story. Do it yourself by whatever means necessary.

I felt highly anxious in a way that I didn't think other children were.

I write at all different times. I write in my bed, I write at the table. I need to get it together. I'm working on a book and working, and just jam it in whenever it makes sense.

There are so many reactions to art that make sense to me - but 'ick' means something.