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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.

-Laurie Halse Anderson

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I Sit At A

Laurie Halse Anderson

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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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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?

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.

Having A Friend Made Everything Else Suck Less.

I Am The Space Between My Thighs, Daylight Shining Through.

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

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

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)

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

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

Nicole Can Do Anything That Involves A Ball And Whistle.

I Am Getting Better At Smiling When People Expect It.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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'm Learning How To Taste Everything.

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.

What Do You Miss About Being Alive?" The Sound Of My Mom Singing, A Little Off-key. The Way My Dad Went To All My Swim Meets And I Could Hear His Whistle When My Head Was Underwater, Even If He Did Yell At Me Afterward For Not Trying Harder. I Miss Going To The Library. I Miss The Smell Of Clothes Fresh Out Of The Dryer. I Miss Diving Off The Highest Board And Nailing The Landing. I Miss Waffles" - P. 272.

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

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.

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

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

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

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?

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

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 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 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.

To Keep Up Appearances, I Stomp My Room And Slam The Door.

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'm Learning How To Taste Everything.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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'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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

I Make It Through The First Two Weeks Of School Without A Nuclear Meltdown.

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

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?

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

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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 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.

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

Don't Expect To Make A Difference Unless You Speak Up For Yourself.

Making A Difference

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

Eating Disorder

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

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

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

I’m The Girl Who Trips On The Dance Floor And Can’t Find Her Way To The Exit. All Eyes On Me.

I Was Raped, Too Sexually Assaulted In Seventh Grade, Tenth Grade. The Summer After Graduation, At A Party I Was 16 I Was 14 I Was 5 And He Did It For Three Years I Loved Him I Didn't Even Know Him He Was My Best Friend's Brother, My Grandfather, Father, Mommy's Boyfriend, My Date, My Cousin, My Coach I Met Him For The First Time That Night And- 4 Guys Took Turns, And- I'm A Boy And This Happened To Me, And- ...i Got Pregnant I Gave Up My Daughter For Adoption... Did It Happen To You, Too?

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.

Gym Should Be Illegal. It's Humiliating.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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 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.

Bologna Girl, That's Me.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

It's Nathaniel Hawthorne Month In English. Poor Nathaniel. Does He Know What They've Done To Him? We're Reading The Scarlet Letter One Sentence At A Time, Tearing It Up And Chewing On Its Bones. It's All About Symbolism, Says Hairwoman. Every Word Chosen By Nathaniel, Every Comma, Every Paragraph Break -- These Were All Done On Purpose. To Get A Decent Grade In Her Class, We Have To Figure Out What He Was Really Trying To Say. Why Couldn't He Just Say What He Meant? Would They Pin Scarlet Letters On His Chest? B For Blunt, S For Straightforward?

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.

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

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

I Have Never Heard A More Eloquent Silence.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

I Understood What Triggered Her Earthquakes, Most Of Them.

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

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.

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 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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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 Pull My Lower Lip All The Way In Between My Teeth. If I Try Hard Enough, Maybe I Can Gobble My Whole Self This Way.... I Didn't Try Hard Enough To Swallow Myself.

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

Nicole Can Do Anything That Involves A Ball And Whistle.

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.

I Have Never Heard A More Eloquent Silence.

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.

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

I Know My Head Isn't Screwed On Straight. I Want To Leave, Transfer, Warp Myself To Another Galaxy. I Want To Confess Everything, Hand Over The Guilt And Mistake And Anger To Someone Else. There Is A Beast In My Gut, I Can Hear It Scraping Away At The Inside Of My Ribs. Even If I Dump The Memory, It Will Stay With Me, Staining Me. My Closest Is A Good Thing, A Quiet Place That Helps Me Hold These Thoughts Inside My Head Where No One Can Hear Them.

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

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

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

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

Eating Disorder

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 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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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 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.

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

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.

I Understood What Triggered Her Earthquakes, Most Of Them.

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 Make It Through The First Two Weeks Of School Without A Nuclear Meltdown.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

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?

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

We've Fallen Down On Our Responsibility To Our Children By Somehow Creating This World Where They're Surrounded By Images Of Sexuality; And Yet, We As Adults Struggle To Talk To Kids Honestly About Sex, The Rules Of Dignity And Consent.

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.

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.

I Have Entered High School With The Wrong Hair, The Wrong Clothes, The Wrong Attitude. And I Don't Have Anyone To Sit With.

Conjugate This: I Cut Class, You Cut Class, He, She, It Cuts Class. We Cut Class, They Cut Class. We All Cut Class. I Cannot Say This In Spanish Because I Did Not Go To Spanish Today. Gracias A Dios. Hasta Luego.

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.

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

When People Don't Express Themselves, They Die One Piece At A Time.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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