I Wish I Had Cancer. I Will

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.

I Have Never Heard A More Eloquent Silence.

Mr. Freeman: You Are Getting Better At This, But It's Not Good Enough. This Looks Like A Tree,but It Is An Average, Ordinary, Everyday, Boring Tree. Breathe Life Into It. Make It Bend - Trees Are Flexible, So They Don't Snap. Scar It, Give It A Twisted Branch - Perfect Trees Don't Exist. Nothing Is Perfect. Flaws Are Interesting. Be The Tree.

I Pushed My Ragged Mouth Against The Mirror. A Thousand Crushed Bleeding Lips Pushed Back At Me.

What Do You Miss About Being Alive?" The Sound Of My Mom Singing, A Little Off-key. The Way My Dad Went To All My Swim Meets And I Could Hear His Whistle When My Head Was Underwater, Even If He Did Yell At Me Afterward For Not Trying Harder. I Miss Going To The Library. I Miss The Smell Of Clothes Fresh Out Of The Dryer. I Miss Diving Off The Highest Board And Nailing The Landing. I Miss Waffles" - P. 272.