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 rippe...
He says we will graduate knowing how to read and write because we'll spend a million hours learning how to read and write. Why not spend that time on art: painting, sculpting, charcoal, pastel, oils?...
Had she ever enjoyed anything? Had every day been a struggle? Perhaps death would be a release, a rest for the weary.
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.
Dr. Parker and all my parents live in a paper-mache world. They just patch up problems with strips of newspaper and a little glue.
Do I want to die from the inside out or the outside in?
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.
But that's the wrong question. Ask why everyone else is so pathetically stupid and why they're always whining about detention, I should get a medal for not slapping people in the face every day.
Broken leaves flew into the air from the violence of his thrashing, and the gore and blood kept pouring from the black hole in his belly and from his mouth - surely enough blood for ten men, a sight h...
Be careful what you wish for. There's always a catch.
All of my answers were drawings of armored unicorns.
A wide valley of the dead spread out below me, hundreds of them gently tucked into the ground in neat rows, their whispers frozen into the stones above them: I am here. I was here. Remember me. Rememb...
A merda de um cara é o adubo de outro.
That's pretty good, for a young girlfrom Fever 1793
Our culture has the expectation that the memories of a happy childhood will somehow ground you and prepare you for adult life. But what about the memories that cut, that wound, that won't heal?
I lean into the mirror. eyes after eyes after eyes stare back at me. am i in there somewhere?
Who wants to recover? It took me years to get that tiny. I wasn't sick; I was strong.
When you're alive, people can hurt you. It's easier to crawl into a bone cage or snowdrift of confusion. It's easier to lock everybody out. But it's a lie.
What did it feel like to die? Was it a peaceful sleep? Some thought it was full of either trumpet-blowing angels or angry devils. Perhaps I was already dead.
We should teach our girls that snapping is ok, instead of waiting for someone else to break them.