I Cry To Let Everything Out

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

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

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

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

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