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I Showed Her How I'd Been Making Tiny Cuts In My Skin To Let The Badness And The Pain Leak Out. They Were Shallow At First, And Short, Like Claw Marks Made By A Desperate Cat That Wanted To Hid Under The Front Porch. 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.

-Laurie Halse Anderson

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I Showed Her How

Laurie Halse Anderson

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I Showed Her How I'd Been Making Tiny Cuts In My Skin To Let The Badness And The Pain Leak Out. They Were Shallow At First, And Short, Like Claw Marks Made By A Desperate Cat That Wanted To Hid Under The Front Porch. 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.

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

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 Cry To Let Everything Out

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.

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

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

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

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.

What Do I Want? The Answer To That Question Does Not Exist.

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.

I Look At My Homely Sketch. It Doesn't Need Anything. Even Through The River In My Eyes I Can See That. It Isn't Perfect And That Makes It Just Right.

Grandma Frowned And Yelled Something In Russian. She Could Have Been Saying, 'open Up, Your Best Friend Is Here.' On The Other Hand, It Could Have Been, 'america Is A Great Country Because Of Canned Ravioli.

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

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?

I Knew How Much It Hurt To Be The Daughter Of People Who Can't See You, Not Even If You Are Standing In Front Of Them Stomping Your Feet.

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

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.

I Need A New Friend. I Need A Friend, Period. Not A True Friend, Nothing Close Or Share Clothes Or Sleepover Giggle Giggle Yak Yak. Just A Pseudo-friend, Disposable Friend. Friend As Accessory. Just So I Don't Feel Or Look So Stupid.

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

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

I Believe That You've Created A Metaphorical Universe In Which You Can Express Your Darkest Fears. In One Aspect, Yes, I Believe In Ghosts, But We Create Them. We Haunt Ourselves, And Sometimes We Do Such A Good Job, We Lose Track Of Reality.

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

Eating Disorder

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.

There Is Nothing Wrong With Me. These Are Really Sick People, Sick That You Can See.

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.

I Am Almost A Real Girl The Entire Drive Home. I Went To A Diner. I Drank Hot Chocolate And Ate French Fries. Talked To A Guy For A While. Laughed A Couple Of Times. A Little Like Ice-skating For The First Time, Wobbly, But I Did It.

Principal Principal: Where's Your Late Pass, Mister? Errant Student: I'm On My Way To Get One Now. Pp: But You Can't Be In The Hall Without A Pass. Es: I Know, I'm So Upset. That's Why I Need To Hurry, So I Can Get A Pass. Principal Principal Pauses With A Look On His Face Like Daffy Duck's When Bugs Is Pulling A Fast One. Pp: Well, Hurry Up, Then, And Get That Pass.

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.

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

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

Why Not Draw Naked Guys, Just To Be Fair? Naked Women Is Art, Naked Guys A No-no, I Bet. Probably Because Most Painters Are Men.

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.

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

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 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 Stand In The Center Aisle Of The Auditorium, A Wounded Zebra In A National Geographic Special, Looking For Someone, Anyone To Sit Next To. A Predator Approaches: Gray Jock Buzz Cut, Whistle Around A Neck Thicker Than His Head. Probably A Social Studies Teacher, Hired To Coach A Blood Sport.

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

Eating Was Hard. Breathing Was Hard. Living Was Hardest.

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

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.

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?

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.

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!

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.

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

Do I Want To Die From The Inside Out Or The Outside In?

Eating Disorder

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.

I Don't Say Anything And I Feel Awful. I Tell Somebody And I Feel Worse. I'm Having Trouble Finding A Middle Ground.

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.

I Showed Her How I'd Been Making Tiny Cuts In My Skin To Let The Badness And The Pain Leak Out. They Were Shallow At First, And Short, Like Claw Marks Made By A Desperate Cat That Wanted To Hid Under The Front Porch. 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.

You Were Born With The Seeds Of Your Talent, The Ability To Observe The World Around You And Weave Piece Of It Into A Story. I Believe That Most -- If Not All -- People Are Born With These Seeds. What Separates The Writers From The Non-writers Is That The Writers Actually Sit Down And, You Know... Write.

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

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

There's No Point In Asking Why, Even Though Everybody Will. I Know Why. The Harder Question Is "why Not?" I Can't Believe She Ran Out Of Answers Before I Did.

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.

Nicole Can Do Anything That Involves A Ball And Whistle.

I Watch The Eruptions. Mount Dad, Long Dormant, Now Considered Armed And Dangerous. Mount Saint Mom, Oozing Lava, Spitting Flame. Warn The Villagers To Run Into The Sea.

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

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

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 Cry To Let Everything Out

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!

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

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)

Homework Is Not An Option. My Bed Is Sending Out Serious Nap Rays. I Can't Help Myself. The Fluffy Pillows And Warm Comforter Are More Powerful Than I Am. I Have No Choice But To Snuggle Under The Covers.

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.

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.

A Little Kid Asks My Dad Why That Man Is Chopping Down The Tree. Dad: He's Not Chopping It Down. He's Saving It. Those Branches Were Long Dead From Disease. All Plants Are Like That. By Cutting Off The Damage You Make It Possible For The Tree To Grow Again. You Watch - By The End Of Summer, This Tree Will Be The Strongest On The Block.

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

He Says A Million Things Without Saying A Word. I Have Never Heard A More Eloquent Silence.

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

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.

I Am Almost A Real Girl The Entire Drive Home. I Went To A Diner. I Drank Hot Chocolate And Ate French Fries. Talked To A Guy For A While. Laughed A Couple Of Times. A Little Like Ice-skating For The First Time, Wobbly, But I Did It.

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.

You Must Walk Alone To Find Your Soul.

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

The One Good Thing About Being Kind Of Shy Is That Nobody Bugs You When You Want To Be Left Alone.

I'm Learning How To Taste Everything.

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

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)

Revision Means Throwing Out The Boring Crap And Making What’s Left Sound Natural.

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.

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.

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.

If I Had Lady-spider Legs, I Would Weave A Sky Where The Stars Lined Up. Matresses Would Be Tied Down Tight To Their Trucks, Bodies Would Never Crash Through Windshields. The Moon Would Rise Above The Wine-dark Sea And Give Babies Only To Maidens And Musicians Who Had Prayed Long And Hard. Lost Girls Wouldn't Need Compasses Or Maps. They Would Find Gingerbread Paths To Lead Them Out Of The Forest And Home Again. They Would Never Sleep In Silver Boxes With White Velvet Sheets, Not Until They Were Wrinkled-paper Grandmas And Ready For The Trip.

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

I Nod Like I’m Listening,like We’re Communicating, And She Never Knows The Difference.

I Am A Gluttonous, Gorging Failure. A Waste. My Body Isn’t Used To High-sugar Carbs Laced With Witchcraft. It Can Barely Cope With Soup And Crackers.

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

We Held Hands When We Walked Down The Gingerbread Path Into The Forest, Blood Dripping From Our Fingers. We Danced With Witches And Kissed Monsters. We Turned Us Into Wintergirls, When She Tried To Leave, I Pulled Her Back Into The Snow Because I Was Afraid To Be Alone.

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

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

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

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.

I Just Thought Of A Great Theory That Explains Everything. When I Went To That Party, I Was Abducted By Aliens. They Have Created A Fake Earth And Fake High School To Study Me And My Reactions. This Certainly Explains Cafeteria Food.

Apologies Mean Nothing If You Don't Mean It.

Do I Want To Die From The Inside Out Or The Outside In?

Eating Disorder

Gym Should Be Illegal. It's Humiliating.

It Made Me Strong.i Took A Step Back, Near My Whole Self In The Mirror.i Pushed Back My Shoulders And Raised My Chin, My Back Straight As An Arrow.

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

A Breath Of Steam Trickles Out, Filled With The Sobs Of A Grown Woman Breaking Into Girl-sized Pieces.

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

Grandma Frowned And Yelled Something In Russian. She Could Have Been Saying, 'open Up, Your Best Friend Is Here.' On The Other Hand, It Could Have Been, 'america Is A Great Country Because Of Canned Ravioli.

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

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 Have Ten Bucks In My Pocket - What To Spend It On? French Fries - Ten Dollars' Worth Of French Fries, Ultimate Fantasy.

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

I Wish America Would Stop Judging And Criticizing Teens And Instead, Try To Understand The Battles They Have To Fight Every Day.

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.

Write About The Emotions You Fear The Most.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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?

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.

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

I Wanted To Pull Down A Book, Open It Proper, And Gobble Up Page After Page

A Scar Is A Sign Of Strength. . .the Sign Of A Survivor.

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

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

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.

The Dead Do Walk And Haunt And Crawl Into Your Bed At Night. Ghosts Sneak Into Your Head When You're Not Looking. Stars Line Up And Volcanoes Birth Out Bits Of Glass That Foretell The Future. Poison Berries Make Girls Stronger, But Sometimes Kill Them. If You Howl At The Moon And Swear On Your Blood, Anything You Desire Will Be Yours. Be Careful What You Wish For. There's Always A Catch.

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.

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

Bologna Girl, That's Me.

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?

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

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.

A Scar Is A Sign Of Strength. . .the Sign Of A Survivor.

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

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

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.

He Says A Million Things Without Saying A Word. I Have Never Heard A More Eloquent Silence.

Homework Is Not An Option. My Bed Is Sending Out Serious Nap Rays. I Can't Help Myself. The Fluffy Pillows And Warm Comforter Are More Powerful Than I Am. I Have No Choice But To Snuggle Under The Covers.

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

Think About Love, Or Hate, Or Joy, Or Pain- Whatever Makes You Feel Something, Makes Your Palms Sweat, Or Your Toes Curl. Focus On That Feeling. When People Don't Express Themselves, They Die On Piece At A Time.

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

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.

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.

Adrenaline Kicks You In When You’re Starving. That’s What Nobody Understands. Except For Being Hungry And Cold, Most Of The Time I Feel Like I Can Do Anything. It Gives Me Superhuman Powers Of Smell And Hearing. I Can See What People Are Thinking, Stay Two Steps Ahead Of Them. I Do Enough Homework To Stay Off The Radar. Every Night I Climb Thousands Of Steps Into The Sky To Make Me So Exhausted That When I Fall Into Bed, I Don’t Notice Cassie. Then Suddenly It’s Morning And I Leap On The Hamster Wheel And It Starts All Over Again.

School Libraries Are The Foundations Of Our Culture – Not Luxuries.

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?

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.

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

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.

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.

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 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 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.

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

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!

If I Can Write A Book That Will Help The World Make A Little More Sense To A Teen, Then That's Why I Was Put On The Planet.

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

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.

Principal Principal: Where's Your Late Pass, Mister? Errant Student: I'm On My Way To Get One Now. Pp: But You Can't Be In The Hall Without A Pass. Es: I Know, I'm So Upset. That's Why I Need To Hurry, So I Can Get A Pass. Principal Principal Pauses With A Look On His Face Like Daffy Duck's When Bugs Is Pulling A Fast One. Pp: Well, Hurry Up, Then, And Get That Pass.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

School Libraries Are The Foundations Of Our Culture – Not Luxuries.

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.

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

Nicole Can Do Anything That Involves A Ball And Whistle.

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

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.

This Girl Shivers And Crawls Under The Covers With All Her Clothes On And Falls Into An Overdue Library Book, A Faerie Story With Rats And Marrow And Burning Curses. The Sentences Build A Fence Around Her, A Times Roman 10-point Barricade, To Keep The Thorny Voices In Her Head From Getting Too Close.

I Wish America Would Stop Judging And Criticizing Teens And Instead, Try To Understand The Battles They Have To Fight Every Day.

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

Look At The Stupid, Poor People. Look At The Stupid, Poor, Burned-out People. Look At The Stupid, Poor, Burned-out People, Look At Their Dead Baby. It's Death Porn For The Masses.

I Watch Some Kids Ask The Cafeteria Ladies To Sign Their Books. What Do They Write: "hope Your Chicken Patties Never Bleed?" Or, Maybe, "may Your Jell-o Always Wiggle?

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.

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

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 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.

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

Think About Love, Or Hate, Or Joy, Or Pain- Whatever Makes You Feel Something, Makes Your Palms Sweat, Or Your Toes Curl. Focus On That Feeling. When People Don't Express Themselves, They Die On Piece At A Time.

Cold And Silence. Nothing Quieter Than Snow. The Sky Screams To Deliver It, A Hundred Banshees Flying On The Edge Of The Blizzard. But Once The Snow Covers The Ground, It Hushes As Still As My Heart.

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

There's No Point In Asking Why, Even Though Everybody Will. I Know Why. The Harder Question Is "why Not?" I Can't Believe She Ran Out Of Answers Before I Did.

You Were Born With The Seeds Of Your Talent, The Ability To Observe The World Around You And Weave Piece Of It Into A Story. I Believe That Most -- If Not All -- People Are Born With These Seeds. What Separates The Writers From The Non-writers Is That The Writers Actually Sit Down And, You Know... Write.

I Stuff My Mouth With Old Fabric And Scream Until There Are No Sounds Left Under My Skin.

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.

I Scared Myself, Because Once You've Thought Long And Hard Enough About Doing Something That Is Colossally Stupid, You Feel Like You've Actually Done It, And Then You're Never Quite Sure What Your Limits Are.

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