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And Then A New Screen, One I Had Never Seen Before, Never Even Heard Of Popped Up. It Gave Me A Choice. I Could Become The New Lord Of Darkness Myself, Or I Could Take A Gamble And Be Reincarnated. I Chose Wisely.

-Laurie Halse Anderson

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And Then A New

Laurie Halse Anderson

...

And Then A New Screen, One I Had Never Seen Before, Never Even Heard Of Popped Up. It Gave Me A Choice. I Could Become The New Lord Of Darkness Myself, Or I Could Take A Gamble And Be Reincarnated. I Chose Wisely.

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No, I Am Never Setting Foot In This House Again It Scares Me And Makes Me Sad And I Wish You Could Be A Mom Whose Eyes Worked But I Don't Think You Can.

Sometimes I Think High School Is One Long Hazy Activity: If You Are Tough Enough To Survive This, They'll Let You Become An Adult. I Hope It's Worth It.

I Shake My Head. I Pick Up The Rake And Start Making The Dead-leaf Pile Neater. A Blister Pops And Stains The Rake Handle Like A Tear. Dad Nods And Walks To The Jeep, Keys Jangling In His Fingers. A Mockingbird Lands On A Low Oak Branch And Scolds Me. I Rake The Leaves Out Of My Throat. Me: "can You Buy Some Seeds? Flower Seeds?

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I Breathe In Slowly. Food Is Life. I Exhale, Take Another Breath. Food Is Life. And That's The Problem. When You're Alive, People Can Hurt You. It's Easier To Crawl Into A Bone Cage Or A Snowdrift Of Confusion. It's Easier To Lock Everybody Out. But It's A Lie.

Dead Girl Walking” The Boys Say In The Halls. “tell Us Your Secrets” The Girls Whisper, One Toilet To Another. "i Am That Girl. I Am The Spaces Between My Thighs, Daylight Shinning Through. I Am The Bones They Want, Wired On A Porcelain Frame.

My First Class Is Biology. I Can't Find It And Get My First Demerit For Wandering The Hall. It Is 8:50 In The Morning. Only 699 Days And 7 Class Periods Until Graduation.

I Want To Tell Him That It's Just A Stupid Car, But Bits Of Me Are Scattered All Over Town; The Graveyard, School, Cassie's Room, The Motel, And Standing In From Of The Sink In My Mother's Kitchen. It Takes Too Much Energy To Gather All The Bits Together, So I Just Sit There And Watch Him Implode.

You’re Not Dead, But You’re Not Alive, Either. You’re A Wintergirl, Lia-lia, Caught In Between The Worlds. You’re A Ghost With A Beat- Ing Heart. Soon You’ll Cross The Border And Be With Me. I’m So Stoked. I Miss You Wicked.

They Tied Me Back Together, But They Didn't Use Double Knots. My Insides Are Draining Out Of The Fault Lines In My Skin, I Can Feel It, But Every Time I Check The Bandages, They're Dry.

It Doesn't Hurt. Nothing Hurts Except The Small Smiles And Blushes That Flash Across The Room Like Tiny Sparrows.

Do They Choose To Be So Dense? Were They Born That Way? I Have No Friends. I Have Nothing. I Say Nothing. I Am Nothing.

I Am Locked Into The Mirror And There Is No Door Out.

This Camp Is A Forge For The Army; It's Testing Our Mettle. Instead Of Heat And Hammer, Our Trials Are Cold And Hunger. Question Is, What Are We Made Of?

When Life Sucks, Read. They Can't Yell At You For That. And If They Do, Then You Can Ignore Them.

My English Teacher Has No Face. She Has Uncombed Stringy Hair That Droops On Her Shoulders. The Hair Is Black From Her Part To Her Ears And Then Neon Orange To The Frizzy Ends. I Can't Decide If She Had Pissed Off Her Hairdresser Or Is Morphing Into A Monarch Butterfly. I Call Her Hairwoman.

I Knit The Afternoon Away. I Knit Reasons For Elijah To Come Back. I Knit Apologies For Emma. I Knit Angry Knots And Slipped Stitches For Every Mistake I Ever Made, And I Knit Wet, Swollen Stitches That Look Awful. I Knit The Sun Down.

The Trick To Surviving An Interrogation Is Patience. Don't Offer Up Anything. Don't Explain. Answer The Question And Only The Question That Is Asked So You Don't Accidentally Put Your Head In A Noose.

I've Written In Every Imaginable Location; A Repurposed Closet, The Kitchen Table, The Bleachers While My Kids Had Basketball Practice, The Front Seat Of The Car When They Were At Soccer. In Airports. On Trains. In The Break Room When I Was Supposed To Be Wolfing Down Dinner. In The Back Of Classrooms When I Was Supposed To Be Paying Attention.

None Of [the Books Are] Worth Reading. There Are No Fairy Tales, No Faerie Tails, No Sword-swinging Princesses Or Lightning-throwing Gods.

The Stars Whirled Above Us And The Firecrackers Blazed. The Moon Stood Watch As Drops Of Blood Fell, Careless Seeds That Sizzled In The Snow.

I Have Never Heard A More Eloquent Silence.

Used To Be That My Whole Body Was My Canvas-hot Cuts Licking My Ribs, Ladder Rungs Climbing My Arms, Thick Milkweed Stalks Shooting Up My Thighs.

Sometimes Being An Adult Means Doing The Right Thing, Even If It's Not What You Want.

Each Reader Has To Find Her Or His Own Message Within A Book.

Having A Friend Made Everything Else Suck Less.

I Am Super Proud Of Being An American, But We Fail Our Veterans Every Day.

Gym Should Be Illegal. It's Humiliating.

Sometimes I Think High School Is One Long Hazy Activity: If You Are Tough Enough To Survive This, They'll Let You Become An Adult. I Hope It's Worth It.

My Face Becomes A Picasso Sketch, My Body Slicing Into Pieces.

Censorship Is The Child Of Fear And The Father Of Ignorance.

In One Aspect, Yes, I Believe In Ghosts, But We Create Them. We Haunt Ourselves.

I'm The Only One Sitting Alone, Under The Glowing Neon Sign Which Reads, "complete And Total Loser, Not Quite Sane. Stay Away. Do Not Feed.

The Best Time To Talk To Ghosts Is Just Before The Sun Comes Up.

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.

When People Don't Express Themselves, They Die One Piece At A Time. You'd Be Shocked At How Many Adults Are Really Dead Inside—walking Through Their Days With No Idea Who They Are, Just Waiting For A Heart Attack Or Cancer Or A Mack Truck To Come Along And Finish The Job. It's The Saddest Thing I Know.

I Lift My Arm Out Of The Water. It's A Log. Put It Back Under And It Blows Up Even Bigger. People See The Log And Call It A Twig. They Yell At Me Because I Can't See What They See. Nobody Can Explain To Me Why My Eyes Work Different Than Theirs. Nobody Can Make It Stop.

They Mean Hot Like 'i'm Too Good For You I Got My Own Money Don't Be Frontin' Me.' You're More Like 'be My Boyfriend I'll Make You Cookies Come Meet My Dad ' Know What I Mean

Art Without Emotion Its Like Chocolate Cake Without Sugar. It Makes You Gag.

Emma Is A Mattress Who Got Thrown Off The Truck When Her Parents Split Up. It's Not Like You Can Blame A Mattress When People Don't Tie It Down Tight Enough.

The Only Number That Would Ever Be Enough Is 0. Zero Pounds, Zero Life, Size Zero, Double-zero, Zero Point. Zero In Tennis Is Love. I Finally Get It.

Why Not Spend That Time On Art: Painting, Sculpting, Charcoal, Pastel, Oils? Are Words Or Numbers More Important Than Images? Who Decides This? Does Algebra Move You To Tears? Can Plural Possessives Express The Feelings In Your Heart? If You Don't Learn Art Now, You Will Never Learn To Breathe!

Some Adults Would Rather Pretend That Bad Things Dont Exist Than To Talk About Them.

Why Are You Being So Mean?" "friends Tell Friends The Truth." "yeah, But Not To Hurt, To Help.

Why Not Spend That Time On Art: Painting, Sculpting, Charcoal, Pastel, Oils? Are Words Or Numbers More Important Than Images? Who Decides This? Does Algebra Move You To Tears? Can Plural Possessives Express The Feelings In Your Heart? If You Don't Learn Art Now, You Will Never Learn To Breathe!

Cutting Pain Was A Different Flavor Of Hurt. It Made It Easier Not To Think About Having My Body And My Family And My Life Stolen, Made It Easier Not To Care... -wintergirls

Here Stands A Girl Clutching A Knife. There Is Grease On The Stove, Blood In The Air, And Angry Words Piled In The Corners. We Are Trained Not To See It, Not To See Any Of It. . . . Someone Just Ripped Off My Eyelids.

Too Much Sun After A Syracuse Winter Does Strange Things To Your Head, Makes You Feel Strong, Even If You Aren't.

I Breathe In Slowly. Food Is Life. I Exhale, Take Another Breath. Food Is Life.

For One Moment We Are Not Failed Tests And Broken Condoms And Cheating On Essays; We Are Crayons And Lunch Boxes And Swinging So High Our Sneakers Punch Holes In The Clouds.

I Pushed My Ragged Mouth Against The Mirror. A Thousand Crushed Bleeding Lips Pushed Back At Me.

It Is My First Morning Of High School. I Have Seven New Notebooks, A Skirt I Hate, And A Stomachache.

Used To Be That My Whole Body Was My Canvas-hot Cuts Licking My Ribs, Ladder Rungs Climbing My Arms, Thick Milkweed Stalks Shooting Up My Thighs.

I Decapitated Dandelions All Morning, Leaving Carnage And Death Strewn Into My Path.

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The Constitution Does Not Recognize Different Classes Of Citizenship Based On Time Spent Living In The Country. I Am A Citizen, With The Same Rights As Your Son, Or You. As A Citizen, And As A Student, I Am Protesting The Tone Of This Lesson As Racist, Intolerant, And Xenophobic.

I Reach For Funny Books All The Time To Help Me Get Through Life.

I Don't Just Use Yarn From A Store. I Buy Old Sweaters From Consignment Shops. The Older The Better, And Unravel Them. There Are Countries Of Women In This Scarf/shawl/blanket. Soon It Will Be Big Enough To Keep Me Warm.

I See It In The Hallway. It Goes To Merryweather. It Is Walking With Aubrey Cheerleader. It Is My Nightmare And I Can't Wake Up.it Sees Me. It Smiles And Winks. Good Thing My Lips Are Stitched Together Or I'd Throw Up.

I Need To Finish This Scarf/shawl/blanket Thing So I Can Start Something For Emma- A Hat, Maybe, Or A Sweater For Her Stuffed Elephant.

Did You Read Last Nights Assignments?" Say "yes'" And Get Hammered Again. Say "no'" And The Same Thing Would Happen.

I Doubt Trees Are Ever Told To 'be The Screwed-up Ninth-grader.'

I Live In The Borderlands. The Word Ghost Sounds Like Memory. The Word Therapy Means Exorcism. My Visions Echo And Multiplymultiply. I Don't Know How To Figure Out What They Mean. I Can't Tell Where They Start Or If They Will End. But I Know This. If They Shrink My Head Any More, Or Float Me Away On An Ocean Of Pills, I Will Never Return.

Dead Girl Walking” The Boys Say In The Halls. “tell Us Your Secrets” The Girls Whisper, One Toilet To Another. "i Am That Girl. I Am The Spaces Between My Thighs, Daylight Shinning Through. I Am The Bones They Want, Wired On A Porcelain Frame.

It Had Been A Good Day, All Things Considered. I Had Managed Rather Well On My Own. I Opened Grandfather's Bible. This Is What It Would Be Like When I Had My Own Shop, Or When I Traveled Abroad. I Would Always Read Before Sleeping. One Day, I'd Be So Rich I Would Have A Library Full Of Novel To Choose From. But I Would Always End The Evening With A Bible Passage.

This Is Not Our Fight', The Old Man Said. 'british Or American, That Is Not The Choice. You Must Choose Your Own Side, Find Your Road Through The Valley Of Darkness That Will Lead You To The River Jordan. . . Look Hard For Your River Jordan, My Child. You'll Find It.

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Each Reader Has To Find Her Or His Own Message Within A Book.

I Want To Make A Memorial For Our Turkey. Never Has A Bird Been So Tortured To Provide Such A Lousy Dinner.

If I Run Or Breathe Too Deep, The Cheap Stitches Holding Me Together Will Snap, And All The Stickiness Inside Will Pour Out And Burn Through The Concrete.

They're On Their Way To The Foreign-language Wing. That's No Surprise. The Foreign Kids Are Always Here, Like They Need To Breathe Air Scented With Their Native Language A Couple Times A Day Or They'll Choke To Death On Too Much American.

We Turned Us Into Wintergirls, And When She Tried To Leave, I Pulled Her Back Into The Snow Because I Was Afraid To Be Alone.

Why? You Want To Know Why? Step Into A Tanning Booth And Fry Yourself For Two Or Three Days. After Your Skin Bubbles And Peels Off, Roll In Coarse Salt, Then Pull On Long Underwear Woven From Spun Glass And Razor Wire. Over That Goes Your Regular Clothes, As Long As They Are Tight.

I Handed My Tools. The Two Of Them Reached Down To Help Me Out Of The Crater I'd Dug. ''isn't That A Little Deep?'' Yoda Asked. ''it'll Help The Roots Get Established,'' I Explained. ''established Where? China?

Memory Cuts Both Ways; It Can Either Provide You With Tremendous Strength And A Foundation To Carry You Through Your Life, Or It Can Be A Demon That Just Ruins Your Present And Your Future Because You Can’t Let Go Of The Past.

I Can’t Tell Anymore When I’m Asleep And When I’m Awake, Or Which Is Worse.

They Say They Have Noticed Me Drawing. I Almost Tell Them Right Then And There. They Noticed.

Melancholy Held Me Hostage, And The Bees Built A Hive Of Sadness In My Soul.

I Wish I Had Cancer. I Will Burn In Hell For That, But It's True.

If I Ever Form A Clan, We'll Be The Anti-cheerleaders And Walk Under The Bleacher Forming Mild Acts Of Mayhem.

Be Careful What You Wish For. There's Always A Catch.

This Is Where You Can Find Your Soul If You Dare. Where You Can Touch That Part Of You That You've Never Dared Look At Before. Do Not Come Here And Ask Me To Show You How To Draw A Face. Ask Me To Help You Find The Wind.

I Keep Thinking That If I Could Just Unzip My Skin, Step Out Of This Body, Then I Would See Who I Really Am.“ She Nods Her Head Slowly. „what Do You Think You‘d Look Like?” “smaller, For A Start.

It Doesn't Hurt. Nothing Hurts Except The Small Smiles And Blushes That Flash Across The Room Like Tiny Sparrows.

Gossip Is The Foul Smell From The Devil's Backside.

I Wonder How Long It Would Take For Anyone To Notice If I Just Stopped Talking.

I Am Learning How To Be Angry And Sad And Lonely And Joyful And Excited And Afraid And Happy.

Oppressive Bastards, Think They Own The Place. I Told Them That Karma's Going To Kick Their Asses.

It Is Easier Not To Say Anything. Shut Your Trap, Button Your Lip, Can It. All That Crap You Hear On Tv About Communication And Expressing Feelings Is A Lie. Nobody Really Wants To Hear What You Have To Say.

Hannah Was About To Burst With Excitement, Which Would Have Been Disgusting Because She Would Have Sprayed Blood, Guts And Glitter In Every Direction.

Emma Hears Me Come Up The Stairs And Asks Me To Watch A Movie With Her. I Stick Band-aids On My Weeping Cuts, Put On Pink Pajamas So We Match, And Snuggle With Her Under Her Rainbow Comforter. She Arranges All Of Her Stuffed Animals Around Us In A Circle, Everyone Facing The Tv, Then Presses Play...ghosts Dare Not Enter Here.

Picasso.” He Whispers Like A Priest. “picasso. Who Saw The Truth. Who Painted The Truth, Molded It, Ripped From The Earth With Two Angry Hands.

I Just Want To Sleep. A Coma Would Be Nice. Or Amnesia. Anything, Just To Get Rid Of This, These Thoughts, Whispers In My Mind. Did He Rape My Head, Too?

Mr. Freeman Sighs. "no Imagination. What Are You Thirteen? Fourteen? You've Already Let Them Beat Your Creativity Out Of You!

It Happened. There Is No Avoiding It, No Forgetting. No Running Away, Or Flying, Or Burying, Or Hiding.

I Am Not Going To Think About It. It Was Ugly, But It’s Over, And I’m Not Going To Think About It.

I Picked Up One Of The Books And Flipped Through It. Don't Get Me Wrong, I Like Reading. But Some Books Should Come With Warning Labels: Caution: Contains Characters And Plots Guaranteed To Induce Sleepiness. Do Not Attempt To Operate Heavy Machinery After Ingesting More Than One Chapter. Has Been Known To Cause Blindness, Seizures And A Terminal Loathing Of Literature. Should Only Be Taken Under The Supervision Of A Highly Trained English Teacher. Preferably One Who Grades On The Curve.

I Cry To Let Everything Out

There Is No Magic Cure, No Making It All Go Away Forever. There Are Only Small Steps Upward; An Easier Day, An Unexpected Laugh, A Mirror That Doesn't Matter Anymore.

In One Universe, They Are Gorgeous, Straight-teethed, Long-legged, Wrapped In Designer Fashions, And Given Sports Cars On Their Sixteenth Birthdays. Teacher Smile At Them And Grade Them On The Curve. They Know The First Names Of The Staff. They Are The Pride Of The Trojans. Oops – I Mean Pride Of The Blue Devils. In Universe #2, They Throw Parties Wild Enough To Attract College Students. They Worship The Stink Of Eau De Jocque. They Rent Beach Houses In Cancún During Spring Break And Get Group-rate Abortions Before Prom.

I Was Good At Digging Holes. It Was The Rest Of Life I Sucked At.

I Lift My Arm Out Of The Water. It's A Log. Put It Back Under And It Blows Up Even Bigger. People See The Log And Call It A Twig. They Yell At Me Because I Can't See What They See. Nobody Can Explain To Me Why My Eyes Work Different Than Theirs. Nobody Can Make It Stop.

Life Is For The Living. Don't Let The Fear Of Striking Out Let You From Keep You From Playing The Game.

Nothing Is Perfect. Flaws Are Interesting. Be The Tree.

This Is Wonderful, Wonderful! Be The Bird. You Are The Bird. Sacrifice Yourself To Abandoned Family Values.

You’re Not Dead, But You’re Not Alive, Either. You’re A Wintergirl, Lia-lia, Caught In Between The Worlds. You’re A Ghost With A Beat- Ing Heart. Soon You’ll Cross The Border And Be With Me. I’m So Stoked. I Miss You Wicked.

I See A Girl Caught In The Remains Of A Holiday Gone Bad, With Her Flesh Picked Off Day After Day As The Carcass Dries Out. The Knife And Fork Are Abviously Middle-class Sensibilities. The Palm Tree Is A Nice Touch. A Broken Dream,perhaps? Plastic Honeymoon, Deserted Island? Oh, If You Put In A Slice Of Pumpkin Pie, It Could Be A Desserted Island! (pg 64)

I Smile And Play Pretend Through The Morning Show In The Kitchen.

There Is Something About Christmas That Requires A Rug Rat. Little Kids Make Christmas Fun. I Wonder If Could Rent One For The Holidays.

I'm Learning How To Taste Everything.

I Don’t Know What I’m Doing In The Next Five Minutes And She Has The Next Ten Years Figured Out. I’ll Worry About Making It Out Of Ninth Grade Alive. Then I’ll Think About A Career Path.

So, She Tells Me, The Words Dribbling Out With The Cranberry Muffin Crumbs, Commas Dunked In Her Coffee.

You’re Not Dead, But You’re Not Alive, Either. You’re A Wintergirl.

I Want To Go To Sleep And Not Wake Up, But I Don't Want To Die. I Want To Eat Like A Normal Person Eats, But I Need To See My Bones Or I Will Hate Myself Even More And I Might Cut My Heart Out Or Take Every Pill That Was Ever Made.

There Is No Magic Cure, No Making It All Go Away Forever. There Are Only Small Steps Upward; An Easier Day, An Unexpected Laugh, A Mirror That Doesn't Matter Anymore.

You Hurt Her By Starving Yourself, You Hurt Her With Your Lies, And By Fighting Everybody Who Tries To Help You. Emma Can Only Sleep A Couple Of Hours A Night Now. She's Haunted By Nightmares Of Monsters That Eat Our Whole Family. They Eat Us Slowly, She Says, So We Can Feel Their Sharp Teeth.

I Am Angry That I Starved My Brain And That I Sat Shivering In My Bed At Night Instead Of Dancing Or Reading Poetry Or Eating Ice Cream Or Kissing A Boy.

There Is Something About Christmas That Requires A Rug Rat. Little Kids Make Christmas Fun. I Wonder If Could Rent One For The Holidays. When I Was Tiny We Would By A Real Tree And Stay Up Late Drinking Hot Chocolate And Finding Just The Right Place For The Special Decorations. It Seems Like My Parents Gave Up The Magic When I Figured Out The Santa Lie. Maybe I Shouldn't Have Told Them I Knew Where The Presents Really Came From. It Broke Their Hearts.

For One Moment We Are Not Failed Tests And Broken Condoms And Cheating On Essays; We Are Crayons And Lunch Boxes And Swinging So High Our Sneakers Punch Holes In The Clouds.

My Parents Didn't Raise Me To Be Religious. The Closest We Come To Worship Is The Trinity Of Visa, Mastercard, And American Express. I Think The Merryweather Cheerleaders Confuse Me Because I Missed Out On Sunday School. It Has To Be A Miracle. There Is No Other Explanation. How Else Could They Sleep With The Football Team On Saturday Night And Be Reincarnated As Virginal Goddesses On Monday?

She Turns To Us, Acts Surprised To See Us, Then Does The Bit With The Back Of The Hand To The Forehead. "you're Lost!" "you're Angry!" "you're In The Wrong School!" "you're In The Wrong Country!" "you're On The Wrong Planet!

None Of [the Books Are] Worth Reading. There Are No Fairy Tales, No Faerie Tails, No Sword-swinging Princesses Or Lightning-throwing Gods.

You Have To Know What You Stand For, Not Just What You Stand Against.

She Looks Like A China Doll, Observed Grandfather As We Departed. I Will Break Just As Easily, I Muttered.

Everybody Told Me To Be A Man. Nobody Told Me How.

I Reach For Funny Books All The Time To Help Me Get Through Life.

Lawyers On Tv Always Tell Their Clients Not To Say Anything. The Cops Say That Thing: 'anything You Say Will Be Used Against You.' Self-incrimination. I Looked It Up. Three-point Vocab Word. So Why Does Everyone Makes Such A Big Hairy Deal About Me Not Talking? Maybe I Don't Want To Incriminate Myself. Maybe I Don't Like The Sound Of My Voice. Maybe I Don't Have Anything To Say.

There Is No Safer. There’s Not Even Safe, Never Has Been.

Who Wants To Recover? It Took Me Years To Get That Tiny. I Wasn't Sick; I Was Strong.

The Bathroom Door Swings Open. Emma Sees The Blood Painting My Skin And The Red Rivers Carved On My Body. Emma Sees The Wet Knife, Silver And Bone. The Screams Of My Little Sister Shatter Mirrors.

We Have To Acknowledge That Adolescence Is That Time Of Transition Where We Begin To Introduce To Children That Life Isn't Pretty, That There Are Difficult Things, There Are Hard Situations, It's Not Fair. Bad Things Happen To Good People.

The Bathroom Door Swings Open. Emma Sees The Blood Painting My Skin And The Red Rivers Carved On My Body. Emma Sees The Wet Knife, Silver And Bone. The Screams Of My Little Sister Shatter Mirrors.

This Is Where You Can Find Your Soul If You Dare. Where You Can Touch That Part Of You That You've Never Dared Look At Before. Do Not Come Here And Ask Me To Show You How To Draw A Face. Ask Me To Help You Find The Wind.

I Inscribe Three Lines, Hush Hush Hush, Into My Skin. Ghosts Trickle Out.

Nicole Can Do Anything That Involves A Ball And Whistle.

My Face Becomes A Picasso Sketch, My Body Slicing Into Pieces.

Kids Are Mostly Very Resilient.

Having A Friend Made Everything Else Suck Less.

It's Easier To Floss With Barbed Wire Than Admit You Like Someone In Middle School.

She Cannot Chain My Soul. Yes, She Could Hurt Me. She'd Already Done So...i Would Bleed, Or Not. Scar, Or Not. Live, Or Not. But She Could Not Hurt My Soul, Not Unless I Gave It To Her.

Mr. Freeman: You Are Getting Better At This, But It's Not Good Enough. This Looks Like A Tree,but It Is An Average, Ordinary, Everyday, Boring Tree. Breathe Life Into It. Make It Bend - Trees Are Flexible, So They Don't Snap. Scar It, Give It A Twisted Branch - Perfect Trees Don't Exist. Nothing Is Perfect. Flaws Are Interesting. Be The Tree.

Who Cares What The Color Means? How Do You Know What He Meant To Say? I Mean, Did He Leave Another Book Called "symbolism In My Books?" If He Didn't, Then You Could Just Be Making All Of This Up. Does Anyone Really Think This Guy Sat Down And Stuck All Kinds Of Hidden Meanings Into His Story? It's Just A Story.... But I Think You Are Making All Of This Symbolism Stuff Up. I Don't Believe Any Of It.

Be Aggressive, Be-be Aggressive! B-e A-g-g-r-e-s-s-i-v-e

I Sit At A Table Close To His Desk. Ivy Is In This Class. She Sits By The Door. I Keep Staring At Her, Trying To Make Her Look At Me. That Happens In Movies - People Can Feel It When Oother People Stare At Them And They Just Have To Turn Around And Say Something. Either Ivy Has A Great Force Field, Or My Lazer Vision Isn't Very Strong.

I Picked Up One Of The Books And Flipped Through It. Don't Get Me Wrong, I Like Reading. But Some Books Should Come With Warning Labels: Caution: Contains Characters And Plots Guaranteed To Induce Sleepiness. Do Not Attempt To Operate Heavy Machinery After Ingesting More Than One Chapter. Has Been Known To Cause Blindness, Seizures And A Terminal Loathing Of Literature. Should Only Be Taken Under The Supervision Of A Highly Trained English Teacher. Preferably One Who Grades On The Curve.

The Light Beyond My Eyes Flashflashflashes With A Hundred Futures For Me. Doctor. Ship's Captain. Forest Ranger. Librarian. Beloved Of That Man Or That Women Or Those Children Or Those People Who Voted For Me Or Who Painted My Picture. Poet. Acrobat. Engineer. Friend. Guardian. Avenging Whirlwind. A Million Futures--not All Pretty, Not All Long, But All Of Them Mine. I Do Have A Choice" - P. 271

I Breathe In Slowly. Food Is Life. I Exhale, Take Another Breath. Food Is Life.

I Wish Adults Would Spend Less Energy Freaking Out About The Cutting Itself And Work Harder To Understand What Drives Kids To Self-harm.

They Yell At Me Because I Can't See What They See. Nobody Can Explain To Me Why My Eyes Work Different Than Theirs.

Why? You Want To Know Why? Step Into A Tanning Booth And Fry Yourself For Two Or Three Days. After Your Skin Bubbles And Peels Off, Roll In Coarse Salt, Then Pull On Long Underwear Woven From Spun Glass And Razor Wire. Over That Goes Your Regular Clothes, As Long As They Are Tight.

I Want To Go To Sleep And Not Wake Up, But I Don't Want To Die. I Want To Eat Like A Normal Person Eats, But I Need To See My Bones Or I Will Hate Myself Even More And I Might Cut My Heart Out Or Take Every Pill That Was Ever Made.

Gym Should Be Illegal. It's Humiliating.

It Is My First Morning Of High School. I Have Seven New Notebooks, A Skirt I Hate, And A Stomachache.

I Wish I Had Cancer. I Will Burn In Hell For That, But It's True.

I Cry To Let Everything Out

Having To Parent Your Mother Or Father Is A Challenge That Way Too Many Teens Have To Deal With. Teens Whose Parents Are Dealing With Substance Abuse, Financial Hardship, Job Loss, Mental Illness And Divorce Deserve Our Love, Support, And Compassion. I Wish America Would Stop Judging And Criticizing Teens And Instead, Try To Understand The Battles They Have To Fight Every Day.

Two Days Later, Two Days Before Christmas, I Am Judged Fat And Sane Enough To Be Kicked Out Of The Hospital. The Plan To Send Me Straight Back To New Seasons Won't Work. There Is No Room At The Inn For A Leather Lia-skin Plumped Full Of Messy Things. Not Yet. The Director Promises Dr. Marrigan He'll Have A Bed For Me Next Week. I'm Stable Enough To Go Home Until Then. They All Say I'm Stable.

I Decapitated Dandelions All Morning, Leaving Carnage And Death Strewn Into My Path.

I Can See Us, Living In The Woods, Her Wearing That A, Me With A S Maybe, S For Silent, S For Stupid, For Scared. S For Silly. For Shame.

I Would Never Be Popular. I Didn't Want To Be; I Liked Being Shy. I'd Never Be The Smartest Or The Hottest Or The Happiest. By Eighth Grade You Start To Figure Out Your Limits.

This Is Not Our Fight', The Old Man Said. 'british Or American, That Is Not The Choice. You Must Choose Your Own Side, Find Your Road Through The Valley Of Darkness That Will Lead You To The River Jordan. . . Look Hard For Your River Jordan, My Child. You'll Find It.

I Doubt Trees Are Ever Told To 'be The Screwed-up Ninth-grader.'

It Was Like Looking At A Knot, Knowing It Was A Knot, But Not Knowing How To Untie It. I Had No Map For This Life.

Oppressive Bastards, Think They Own The Place. I Told Them That Karma's Going To Kick Their Asses.

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.

Sometimes Being An Adult Means Doing The Right Thing, Even If It's Not What You Want.

Who Cares What The Color Means? How Do You Know What He Meant To Say? I Mean, Did He Leave Another Book Called "symbolism In My Books?" If He Didn't, Then You Could Just Be Making All Of This Up. Does Anyone Really Think This Guy Sat Down And Stuck All Kinds Of Hidden Meanings Into His Story? It's Just A Story.... But I Think You Are Making All Of This Symbolism Stuff Up. I Don't Believe Any Of It.

I Am So Sorry. I Wish You Knew Even One Tenth Of One Percent Of How Sorry I Am. ...it Was My Fault. Can I Kill Myself Here, Or Should I Do It Outside, So The Mess On Your Carpet Doesn't Upset Your Mother?

Eating Plain Toast Will Detonate Her. "i'll Have Some Honey." When The Bread Is Done I Scrape On A Microscopic Layer Of It And Pour A Cup Of Coffee, Black. She Pretends Not To Listen Or Watch As I Crunch Through My Breakfast. I Pretend That I Don't Notice Her Pretending.

I Needed To Hear The World But Didn't Want The World To Know I Was Listening.

Puke And Starve And Cut And Drink Because You Don't Want To Feel Any Of This. Puke And Starve And Cut And Drink Because You Need An Anesthetic And It Works. For Awhile. But Then The Anesthetic Turns Into Poison And By Then It's To Late Because You Are Maintaining It Now,straight Into Your Soul. It Is Rotting You And You Can't Stop.

I Knew It!" He Pumps A Fist Into The Air. "you've Fallen In Love With Me. You Want To Have My Babies. We'll Get A Team Of Horses And A Covered Wagon And We'll Journey To South America And Raise Goats.

I Am Beginning To Measure Myself In Strength, Not Pounds. Sometimes In Smiles.

Apologies Mean Nothing If You Don't Mean It.

I Live In The Borderlands. The Word Ghost Sounds Like Memory. The Word Therapy Means Exorcism. My Visions Echo And Multiplymultiply. I Don't Know How To Figure Out What They Mean. I Can't Tell Where They Start Or If They Will End. But I Know This. If They Shrink My Head Any More, Or Float Me Away On An Ocean Of Pills, I Will Never Return.

I Am Locked Into The Mirror And There Is No Door Out.

Because I Am Still A Little Girl Who Believes In Santa And The Tooth Fairy And You.

The Only Number That Would Ever Be Enough Is 0. Zero Pounds, Zero Life, Size Zero, Double-zero, Zero Point. Zero In Tennis Is Love. I Finally Get It.

He Doesn't See My Breasts Or My Waist Or My Hips. He Only Sees The Nightmare.

Eating Disorder

Momma Said That Ghosts Couldn't Move Over Water. That's Why Africans Got Trapped In The Americas.. They Kept Moving Us Over The Water, Stealing Us Away From Our Ghosts And Ancestors, Who Cried Salty Rivers Into The Sand. That's Where Momma Was Now, Wailing At The Water's Edge, While Her Girls Were Pulled Out Of Sight Under White Sails That Cracked In The Wind.

Death Is Funny, When You Think About It. Everybody Does It, But Nobody Knows How, Exactly How.

When People Don't Express Themselves, They Die One Piece At A Time. You'd Be Shocked At How Many Adults Are Really Dead Inside—walking Through Their Days With No Idea Who They Are, Just Waiting For A Heart Attack Or Cancer Or A Mack Truck To Come Along And Finish The Job. It's The Saddest Thing I Know.

Didn't Help To Ponder Things That Were Forever Gone. It Only Made A Body Restless And Fill Up With Bees, All Wanting To Sting Something.

Can't Escape Pain, Kiddo. Battle Through It And You Get Stronger.

She Offered Herself To The Big, Bad Wolf And Didn't Scream When He Took The First Bite.

I Want To Go To Sleep And Not Wake Up, But I Don’t Want To Die.

Bologna Girl, That's Me.

I'm Learning How To Taste Everything.

In One Aspect, Yes, I Believe In Ghosts, But We Create Them. We Haunt Ourselves.

I Swallowed The Fear. It’s Always There– Fear– And If You Don’t Stay On Top Of It, You’ll Drown. I Swallowed Again And Stood Tall, Shoulders Broad, Arms Loose. I Was Balanced, Ready To Move. My Body Said, “yeah, You’re Bigger And Stronger, But If You Touch This, I Will Hurt You.

Can't Escape Pain, Kiddo. Battle Through It And You Get Stronger.

I Shake My Head. I Pick Up The Rake And Start Making The Dead-leaf Pile Neater. A Blister Pops And Stains The Rake Handle Like A Tear. Dad Nods And Walks To The Jeep, Keys Jangling In His Fingers. A Mockingbird Lands On A Low Oak Branch And Scolds Me. I Rake The Leaves Out Of My Throat. Me: "can You Buy Some Seeds? Flower Seeds?

I See It In The Hallway. It Goes To Merryweather. It Is Walking With Aubrey Cheerleader. It Is My Nightmare And I Can't Wake Up.it Sees Me. It Smiles And Winks. Good Thing My Lips Are Stitched Together Or I'd Throw Up.

It's A Shame We Can't Just Admit That We Failed Family Living, Sell The House, Split Up The Money, And Get On With Our Lives.

Memory Cuts Both Ways; It Can Either Provide You With Tremendous Strength And A Foundation To Carry You Through Your Life, Or It Can Be A Demon That Just Ruins Your Present And Your Future Because You Can’t Let Go Of The Past.

I Like Cheeseburgers Too Much To Be A Model.

Can The Plural Possessive Express The Feelings In Your Heart? If You Don't Learn Art Now, You Will Never Learn To Breathe!

I Open A Paperclip And Scratch It Across The Inside Of My Left Wrist. Pitiful. If A Suicide Attempt Is A Cry For Help, Then What Is This. A Whimper, A Peep? I Draw Little Window Cracks Of Blood, Etching Line After Line Until It Stops Hurting.

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