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Here's what I have written in a notebook. If you ask to see the notebook, I'll deny its existence.

"I am always here: breaking down. No matter how I act, I'm always breaking. Little things bring me to tears, though I may not show it. All I am is a scared little girl. Scared out of my mind. Jokes make me want to cry. I am afraid they are real. My acts of stupidity hide my feelings. I feel challenged at every turn. My friends cause the most pain, but how would they know? They're too caught up in differnt things. Differnt worlds. My own world scares me, yet no one knows. My silent prayers are never heard. And never sent. My fear is evident, yet unseen. I'm afraid of what what how my friends act. I've never been a favorite in of a box of crayons. I've never feeled felt wanted. I am brown. Not wanted, but needed for the box. And that's all I'll ever be. ~ 5/13/09

I am a scared little girl whose only refuge is to read. I read to find an alternate world to hide in. The world I live in is full of my fears. And I have many. My fears like to hide themselves and jump out when I'm most vulnerable. It's like they know. They attack me as my friends do. My friends don't know what's wrong. It seems they are in it for the mystery. I feel as though they can't care less about how I feel. They just want to know why. But yet, if I told them what was really wrong, they'd either be mad or they would beat themselves up. I want neither. Just my friends. But it looks like I'll never get them back. At least I won't be the favorite crayon in the box ever. Looks like my friends don't have to do anything. Just leave me alone to wither and die."

That's how it is written in my journal. I swear.

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