Sam has brown hair and very, very pretty green eyes. The kind of green that doesn't make a big deal about itself.

On Friday night, I was reading my new book, but my brain got tired, so I decided to watch some television instead.

It's nice to have things to look forward to.

"I hate you." My sister said it different than she said it to my dad. She meant it with me.She really did. "I love you," was all I could say in return. "You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have." "I'm trying not to be.” Then, I turned around and walked to my room and closed my door and put my head under my pillow and let the quiet put things where they are supposed to be.

I know that I brought this all on myself. I know that I deserve this. I'd do anything not to be this way. I'd do anything to make it up to everyone. And to not have to see a psychiatrist, who explains to me about being "passive aggressive.

I wish I knew. It might make me miss him more clearly. It might have made sad sense.

He realized that if he didn't leave, it would never be his life. It would be theirs.