I just want to write. It's like once I get those obsessive thoughts out of my head, once they're written down, they're somehow set free and I can move on.

Apparently, it used to be extremely common for families to have two parents. They stayed together because that’s what all the other parents did. Now there are so many options, so many different ways to be a family. So many ways to rip a family apart.

This body is yours. It is your home. The keeper of your soul. The resting place of your spirit. No one can ever take that away.

I can't take it anymore. The waiting. The wanting. Something inside me snaps. I hate myself. I hate that I have to deal with this. I hate my life. And I hate how I can't count on anyone to be completely there when I need them, exactly the way I need them to be.

It’s unbelievable how you can affect someone else so deeply and never know.

I'd rather be weird and happy than normal and miserable.

The only person I can count on is myself. It's up to me to create the life I want. I can't blame my parents or Scott or anyone else for the way things are.