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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.

-Laurie Halse Anderson

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There's No Point In

Laurie Halse Anderson

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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.

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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.

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

I'm Learning How To Taste Everything.

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

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.

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.

Write About The Emotions You Fear The Most.

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.

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 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.

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?

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

Eating Disorder

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

I Won The Wintergirl Trip Over The Border Into Dangerland.

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.

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 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.

Having A Friend Made Everything Else Suck Less.

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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?

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 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.

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.

Nicole Can Do Anything That Involves A Ball And Whistle.

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

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

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.

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

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!

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

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!

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.

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.

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.

Bologna Girl, That's Me.

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 Cry To Let Everything Out

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 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 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 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.

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

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

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?

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

I'm Learning How To Taste Everything.

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

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 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.

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.

Kids Are Mostly Very Resilient.

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?

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.

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

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

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

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 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.

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.

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

Gym Should Be Illegal. It's Humiliating.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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?

Having A Friend Made Everything Else Suck Less.

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 Failed Eating, Failed Drinking, Failed Not Cutting Myself Into Shreds. Failed Friendship. Failed Sisterhood And Daughterhood. Failed Mirrors And Scales And Phone Calls. Good Thing I'm Stable.

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?

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

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?

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

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 Failed Eating, Failed Drinking, Failed Not Cutting Myself Into Shreds. Failed Friendship. Failed Sisterhood And Daughterhood. Failed Mirrors And Scales And Phone Calls. Good Thing I'm Stable.

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

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.

I Won The Wintergirl Trip Over The Border Into Dangerland.

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?

Rumors Are Spread By Jealous People

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.

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

Eating Disorder

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

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

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.

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.

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!

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.

Rumors Are Spread By Jealous People

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.

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

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.

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

Apologies Mean Nothing If You Don't Mean It.

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

Censoring Books That Deal With Difficult, Adolescent Issues Does Not Protect Anybody. Quite The Opposite. It Leaves Kids In The Darkness And Makes Them Vulnerable. Censorship Is The Child Of Fear And The Father Of Ignorance. Our Children Cannot Afford To Have The Truth Of The World Withheld From Them

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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.

You Must Walk Alone To Find Your Soul.

I Understood What Triggered Her Earthquakes, Most Of Them.

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.

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

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

I Understood What Triggered Her Earthquakes, Most Of Them.

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.

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.

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

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)

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.

The Stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking Didn't Make Her Skinny, It Made Her Cry.

Eating Disorder

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

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.

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.

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.

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 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?

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.

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

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

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

I Am Getting Better At Smiling When People Expect It.

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.

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

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

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

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

I Am Getting Better At Smiling When People Expect It.

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.

Write About The Emotions You Fear The Most.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

I Like Cheeseburgers Too Much To Be A Model.

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 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.

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 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.

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

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

Bologna Girl, That's Me.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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 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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

You Must Walk Alone To Find Your Soul.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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