People Can Start Out One Way, And

I Sit In My New Room And Write Everything Down. My Heart Never Stops Talking.

There Was Nothing I Hated Worse Than Clumps Of Whispering Girls Who Got Quiet When I Passed. I Started Picking Scabs Off My Body And, When I Didn't Have Any, Gnawing The Flesh Around My Fingernails Until I Was A Bleeding Wreck. I Worried So Much About How I Looked And Whether I Was Doing Things Right, I Felt Half The Time I Was Impersonating A Girl Instead Of Really Being Me.

Did You Know There Are Thirty-two Names For Love In One Of The Eskimo Languages?" August Said. "and We Just Have This One. We Are So Limited, You Have To Use The Same Word.

My Mother's Life Was Way Too Heavy For Me.

I Watched Him, Filled With Tenderness And Ache, Wondering What It Was That Connected Us. Was It The Wounded Places Down Inside People That Sought Each Other Out, That Bred A Kind Of Love Between Them?