For One Moment We Are Not Failed

I Wish Adults Would Spend Less Energy Freaking Out About The Cutting Itself And Work Harder To Understand What Drives Kids To Self-harm.

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

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.

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

Nothing Is Perfect. Flaws Are Interesting. Be The Tree.