Hearts, Minds, & Flesh by Brandon Doman

HEARTS, MINDS, & FLESH

The entries in this book are a series of transcribed journal entries collected from a wide range of people. The views presented in the book do not necessarily reflect the views of the author.

This book wouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be possible without the incredible support of those who helped transcribe, organize, and review the book.

THANK YOU Paul Shearer, Jacquelyn Goodfallow, Alice Liu, Leah Nelson, and all of you that shared your stories with me.

Continue following the project at

STRANGERSPROJECT.COM

CONTENTS

01 02 04 10 ABOUT

INTRODUCTION

HANDWRITING

ENTRIES

280 CLOSING

ABOUT THIS BOOK Don’t Talk to Strangers is an ongoing series of anonymous journal entries collected from strangers. The book contains a mix of entries that were handwritten and collected spontaneously in person, as well as entries gathered online from all over the world. Participants are asked to write about anything they want (as long as it’s true). The result is a mosaic of stories from the lives happening around us at every moment. These are our friends, our families, and people we’ve never spoken to. Every moment billions of stories are unfolding—this is a glimpse into some of those things we may normally not notice. These are our lives.

INTRODUCTION When I started all of this I didn’t realize the full potential for significant emotional connection with a complete stranger. The project quickly became something more than I expected. It became something organic—something that connects us. People would laugh while they wrote. They would cry. The stories illuminated the strands that connect us all. Through the bits and pieces you’ve all shared, I began to find the beautiful, dirty, scary, and exciting bits of humanity that we hesitate to share with each other. The opportunity to disrupt the daily routine of others doesn’t present itself often. This project has given me the rare privilege to ask others to stop for a moment, to be curious and ask questions, and to experience something they aren’t accustomed to seeing. Every day we go to work, we go to school, we visit stores, churches, cities, and businesses. We sit next to one another on trains, on buses, and in cars. We take care of our families and friends, and of ourselves. Every day, we choose what parts of ourselves we expose to one another. I believe that it is our capacity for being human that is truly our great equalizer. Because for a moment, it doesn’t matter who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re a business person, a college student, a homeless person, a stroke victim, a secretary, a teacher, a child, a doctor, a traveler, a mother or a father—everyone has a story to share. We can invite those around us in, and for a moment, share something real. Every person has something burning inside of them waiting to be told—we are just waiting for the right time for someone else to listen.

“Stories are the creative conversion of life itself into a more powerful, clearer, more meaningful experience. They are the currency of human contact.” —Robert McKee

HANDWRITING The core of this project has been gathering stories face-to-face. I find a coffee shop and set up a sign that says “Hi there, I’m collecting your stories. Please stop by and share.” When someone stops, I explain the project and then ask them to write their story in one of the notebooks I carry with me. These entries have been transcribed for the book, but I still wanted to share some excerpts from the original hand-written entries. Here you’ll find a few individual lines pulled out from the full entries that you’ll find later in the book.

THE ENTRIES The following are 693 selected entries from the project. These are our best friends and our worst enemies. These are our classmates and our coworkers. These are our mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. These are the lives of the strangers we pass every dayâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the people that occasionally share a moment of eye contact, a smile, or sometimes, more often than not, the people we never even notice. These are stories about us.

• 1 • I need to get the fuck out of Wisconsin. I need to find that thing or things that I’m passionate about and have the courage to pursue it—be it movie making, photography, or finally writing down all the worlds and characters of my imagination that are constantly swirling around my head. I tried to accept mediocrity—really I did, I tried—and I just couldn’t. It may be naive or stupid idealist, but I point blank refuse to give up on the idea that I’m destined for the life of my mother. I love her and I have loved my life thus far. Is it selfish to want more when I already have so much? Or is that just the way of humans, to constantly want to grow and become more? I want to be remembered for something, yes, but more than that—I want to be happy. It’s true that I also want to travel and write and help people and give inspiration to those who need it… but really, when it comes down to it, I just want to be happy. Such a simple idea, yet when your compass keeps spinning around in all the different possible directions, happiness is probably the hardest thing of all to find. I know I need to pick a direction and just start walking… but I think maybe I’m scared to take the first step. And this was the first step—the first time I’ve actually admitted that to myself.

• 2 • In the past year, chronologically, my cat ran away, my father died, I ended my relationship with the best and closest friend I’ve ever had, I graduated college, I moved out of the house I grew up in, and I started law school while supporting myself for the first time in my entire life. And after all of that I’m fine. Maybe even happy. I found out I am a hell of a lot stronger than I ever thought I was.

• 3 • It’s comforting to have someone read what you write. Whether you know them or not makes no difference. Just that in one instant, someone’s mind connects with yours, synchronized in thought. My mother wrote to me when she was 16. She wrote an entire book, to me. She talked to me about sex and drugs and her family ripping apart as if I was

sitting there cross legged in front of her. She gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. I cried reading every word she wrote. She was so lonely and broken that she wrote to only the thought of a person that she would create. All she hoped was that I would be stronger than she, that I wouldn’t have to struggle as much mentally and physically as she. Yet I’m here, doing exactly the same thing as she, writing to a hoped existence.

• 4 • When my husband died, I was 40, and our daughter was 9. The shock of realizing that I was on my own caused me to get depressed. One day my neighbor came over and asked me to come with her back to her house. I told her I was too tired, but she made me go. When I walked into her living room, there stood about 30 people from my neighborhood. I knew some of them. They held hands in a circle around me and said that they wanted to help me, and could I please let them. There was a sign-up sheet for cooking, cleaning, driving my kid and walking my dog. For months I was looked after, and sometimes, people gave me money. I will always remember the kindness of my neighbors.

• 5 • I lost my best friend nine months ago. It was sudden and it still hurts like hell. I miss her terribly. We spoke daily, often for hours on end, about everything and nothing. Sometimes I go to pick up the phone to call her or a song comes on the radio that was a favorite or I drive past her house, then the tears come again and the pain of missing my friend feels like a slap to my heart. My family and my other friends are as sympathetic as they can be, but I know they are getting impatient with my tears and reminiscences. Losing a best friend must in a way be like losing a spouse. They know you inside and out, have seen you on your best and worst days, and are always there to give you a kind word and encouragement. I miss you my friend, but I would rather feel the pain of missing you than never to have met you at all. Rest in peace. I will never forget any of it.

• 6 • In Kindergarten I had a friend. We would swing on the playground every day. She was my best friend. When her birthday came around, she invited the entire class to her party, and it was that day I realized why we were always alone on the swings. Her care-free singing was the result of two mentally ill parents, and her splotchy skin was an extreme skin disease. We were alone on the swings, and we were alone at her birthday party. After I realized she was different, I stopped singing. I found a new friend and would swing with her instead. I don’t know where she is or if she has any friends, but I know she is still singing while I am too scared to. Ann, I am so sorry.

• 7 • Sorry, Mom. I don’t want to become a doctor, a surgeon, a lawyer, or anything else that makes large amounts of money. I don’t care if you don’t have anything to brag about at those dinner parties you go to. Thanks Dad, for beating Mom, my sister, and I. I want to educate people on negative effects of domestic violence, dating violence, and sexual assault. I want to make a difference so that I can be PROUD of myself. My life and the lives of others is my inspiration.

• 8 • I nearly died today. Depression about killed me. I’m a therapist and have struggled with serious depression for 18 years, since I was 16 years old. It has about killed me four times and it came close today. It tempts you like a demon to walk with it through the valley of death. It makes you believe that you are out of the sight of love, of God. It tries to deny you the most fundamental gift that humans have—hope. If you are struggling with this too, remember, depression is a trickster. All of the beauty of the world is still out there, it is just veiled to you now. Hope is not out there, the demon depression cannot take it away, it is in you. Always. And though I may not know you, I love you. Keep walking keep fighting there is light and life at the end of this walk and it is good. Race you. 1,2,3 go. See you on the other side, alive.

• 9 • I am 15 and I’m pregnant by a 20 year old. It’s not the best way to live a normal teenaged life but I deal with it as it comes at me. I feel so lost. I miss my ex, he has my heart and always will. You really don’t understand how scared I am about all this and I have never really told anyone about my feelings toward all this until now. I’m 15, I’m “emo,” but more recently I have found God. I cried in church when they prayed for me. For the first time in my life I felt like there are good people in this world. I don’t know what to do anymore but I’ll take it as it comes.

• 10 • I have a lumpy butt, and because of it I don’t let guys ‘do it from behind’. I hate when they feel my butt because I’m afraid they can feel the lumps. I want to tell a doctor or something about my butt, but it’s so embarrassing. If I didn’t have this, I would be perfectly fine with my body. I’m not overweight, I’m average for a girl my height. I just want this horrible nuisance to go away.

• 11 • I am a 23 year old female from Washington state. I live a lie every day of my life. I am with a girl that I’m pretty sure I do not love at all what-so-ever. I’m not sure why I’m here. I don’t even think I like women… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do with myself. I live in her house. I just need to get away but I don’t know how. I feel trapped.

• 12 • I’m slowly turning into my father, and it’s the worst thing that could possibly happen to me. When I was a kid, my dad yelled at me, my brother, and my mother constantly. I also found out years later that he was cheating on my mother the entire time that they were married, but she didn’t want to get a divorce because of their kids.

My mom also shared that when I was a kid, my dad got really angry. Apparently I wasn’t tying my shoes fast enough, and he kicked me in the ribs three or four times. Fast forward to today, I constantly yell without meaning to towards my beautiful wife, I yell at my dog, and I act out irrationally. I’m growing into my dad, and I hate it.

• 13 • My first kiss and first boyfriend and first heartbreak just told me he’s going to have a baby with a girl he met while traveling. I haven’t had feelings for him since high school (aside from some alcohol-induced mutual quasi-lust), and I’m by no means looking to have a baby, but I think “floored” ALMOST begins to cover it. We’re so fluid when we’re young, but all you need to hear is that someone you’ve known since the awkward years—especially the boy responsible for much of your teen angst throughout high school and drunken flirtation throughout college—is going to be a father to realize that everyone around you is solidifying and that you need to find your place or become comfortable with being alone and with increasingly limited opportunities. Quarter-life crisis. I have it.

• 14 • I gave my children up for adoption and my heart breaks every day that I couldn’t be a good enough mom. I wanted them to have a better life than what I could give. I wonder if they will ever forgive me. Sometimes… well almost every day I cry for my children. I cry in the shower so my husband doesn’t see or feel my pain. Even though he understands, I don’t want him to worry about me. I wish I could have been in a better circumstance. I wish I could hug them every day. Parents, please appreciate the children you have, because once you can’t hold them and tuck them in at night and tell them you love them daily… your whole reason for living is gone and the struggle to exist gets more and more difficult with every holiday and birthday you miss. I miss you my babies and I love you, I only did what I thought was best because I loved you and wanted you to have more than I could ever provide.

• 15 • I did not become a mom in your standard way, hell for that matter I did not even know that I wanted a kid. Here I was, 40 years old, single, and just learning how to live again. Next thing I know, my sister’s daughter was molested by the step father and no one was going to do anything about it. So I stepped up to the plate. My name is Julie and my little girl is Amethyst (Amy for short). I took her in three years ago and have to say that my life dramatically changed and I do have to say that she has made me a better person in trying to make her into an independent and strong young lady. She is almost 12 years old and in one month my fight for her is over and I will have full and complete custody of my little bundle of joy and would not have changed anything. I love being a “mom” even though I am still and will always be Aunt Julie. I hate the discipline but hopefully they are few and far between… she is a pretty good kiddo, and she is pretty sharp. Slowly but surely she is teaching me about loop-holes (kids really know them, told her no jumping off her dresser so she jumped off the table in her room, had to correct myself to no jumping in the house). It is a little strange that at this stage in the game, all my friends are becoming grandparents and I am going to animated movies still! But I love it! My life started at 40 with the “birth” of my nine year old bundle of joy, Amy! Thanks for letting me tell you my little story! I hope that it gave you a laugh and smile, she does for me!

• 16 • I lived in Ethiopia for a month this year. I traveled through the whole country and saw incredible things and met amazing people. Ethiopia has a heartbeat— it can be felt throughout the entire country. I don’t know if America has a heartbeat or if it does, it beats for something else. Something fainter and more obscure. Ethiopia’s heart beats for the abandoned, for the hopeless. While visiting a small rural church in South Ethiopia, a young girl (20-ish) approached. She didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak Amharic. She was carrying a younger girl (4-ish) and handed her off to me. Everyone around went silent. When I asked around, I found out that the woman just gave me her daughter and asked me to take her to America. I looked around but the

mother had disappeared. I looked at the girl in my arms, who did not cry, but stared right back at me, questioning me, who I am, what my heart beats for. I had to leave my daughter behind that day. Watching her from the back window of the truck, I realized that my heart beats for her, and her little green dress and wide brown eyes.

• 17 • They were right—everything I was told about regret turned out to be true. Even if I could go back and live my life differently I would still end up with regret. Listen to me, young people! Listen and then forget, just as I did. Live your life, be in your life, don’t watch other lives on television. You only get one chance. Tally as little regret as possible.

• 18 • I had convinced myself that I wanted to walk down the aisle at my wedding alone. After almost losing my dad to heart disease, I realized how much I want him to be by my side. Daddy’s little girl forever.

• 19 • I miss my family. It’s been nearly a thousand days since I’ve seen them, and my sisters’ faces are starting to blur in my mind’s eye. My younger sister has grown from a child into a young woman without me there to help her. I’ve been watching them all move on, a continent away, and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had the courage to speak directly with them. How many smiles have I missed? How many essays and dances and secret loves and holidays and songs and cigarettes and lives have I missed in the 1.26 million minutes since I’ve set eyes on my home and family? Maybe this is what a soldier feels like. “Just survive one more day. One more month. One more year, and then I get to get away from this godforsaken hellhole forever.”

• 20 • Every day, I live in your house, and I follow your rules, and I cook your food, and I grow up slowly. You ask me for thanks. Thanks for what? Thanks for not having a job, thanks for the second hand smoke, or thanks for the smoking during your pregnancy with me that has messed up my lungs, thanks for sleeping all day and thanks for never being proud of me for one thing, ever? Oh, yeah, thanks for yelling at me whenever you’re not high, and thanks for reminding me how different I am, and how you have no idea where I could have ever gotten it from. Yeah, I’m sure different. I play five instruments, and I’m fourteen. I’m an artist. I love to cook. I’m in advanced classes, two years ahead in math and one year ahead in science. I’ve pushed myself my whole life to make you proud of me. Yeah, you never beat me. But you sure let my sister beat me. And I remember the day where you yelled at me so loudly that you spit on me. I just stood my ground. What were you talking about? Oh, yeah, how you’re the parent and I’m not. Is that why I take care of myself? I cook my own food, dress myself, do my homework without help because you’re not smart enough to help me (If you went to college you could) and pack my own lunches, clean up dishes, and still fit in time for my own pleasure? I heard a fact that twelve newborns are given to the wrong parents each day, how sad is that? And yet, I wonder if I was the one in twelve on my birthday that was? But it can’t be true. I have your eyes, I have your face, I have your voice, and sometimes I have your anger. But I swear I will never act like you, never be anything like you. I wish I had been one of those twelve and was sent away to a happy, peaceful life where I could have never known you. Where you could have never known me. But I know that then, another child would have taken my place. And I would not wish that on anybody, mother.

Yeah, this scar on my wrist? It was never a cat scratch. Just be glad you haven’t seen the ones on my ankle. I know you wouldn’t be happy about them. But then again, when are you ever happy about anything I do?

• 21 • I consider myself an only child with a sibling. I am the younger sister of a man with severe autism. He is 1½ years older than me and we have never had a conversation. I am afraid of him. My parents cannot accept the fact that I refuse to have a relationship with him. I will not take care of him when they no longer can. He still lives in the house where I grew up. Someday I hope to tell my parents how terrible it was to grow up in his violent shadow, but so far I have not had the courage. Wish me luck!

• 22 • I weaned off of Paxil over the summer. It was a long and painful process, but I’m finally done. Unfortunately, my anxiety and depression is coming back full-force. It’s eating me away and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m beginning to think I’m always going to need medication. And that terrifies me.

• 23 • I want my virginity back. That’s a weird statement. But it makes sense for now. I really want it back, not so much as the feeling but the experience. Everyone says your first time is always terrible, but I can’t help but think what if it could’ve been better? Not physically, that wouldn’t change, but emotionally. A stranger and alcohol, a broken bed, and an open window. Would that have been better with someone I love? I don’t know. And that not knowing eats away at me. To me it will always be my first time, to him it will always be a hookup, because he cannot see the importance, he didn’t even know it was my first time. Would he have cared more? Or would the build up of importance, ruin it? There’s no answer, and it kills me. I want my virginity back.

• 24 • Everyone tells me that the “terrible twos” is only a phase and that it will also pass. I have tried everything but nothing seems to work with him. I knew that parenthood was going to be hard but I didn’t realize that it was going to be this difficult. I find myself constantly exhausted both physically and mentally. I have great support from my husband and family but I just cannot deal with tantrums, cries, the constant “Mummy Mummy Mummy!!” every single day, every hour, every minute. I often dream about running away and leaving everything behind. I miss my previous life. I hate myself for becoming who I am now as I find that I just don’t care anymore.

• 25 • I got a letter from my biological father. We’ve been emailing each other for awhile now. I’m so happy, he’s wonderful. Keeping in touch with an adopted child’s parent is very important.

• 26 • I’m 18. I’m joining the US Army through ROTC. I’m telling my family I want to go into military intelligence. In reality, I want to become an explosive ordinance disposal (aka bomb squad) and make it a career.

• 27 • I start college in the fall. I don’t know what I want to do with my life anymore. It scares me. I have no real passion for anything, anymore. All I really want is to have a baby. I know it’s not a smart thing to do right now, and I’m definitely waiting. But I’ve wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember, and all I ever wish is to just be 10 years older.

• 28 • I lie to my boyfriend every day. I tell him I don’t know why I’m so exhausted all the time, or why I can’t sleep like a normal person. I tell him I’ll ask my doctor about my sleeping problems. None of that is true. My depression’s taking such a hold on me. I can’t even bring myself to lift my head up enough so I’m not constantly looking at the floor. I always blame it on being tired. I laugh at things I shouldn’t laugh at so he will think that, though I’m tired, I’m happy. He tries so hard. I can’t bear to let him know that my disease is back, and that this time he can’t fight it.

• 29 • In June, 2010, my biological parents reconnected with me. My mother for the second time, my father for the first. I can truly say I love him. She, on the other hand, hasn’t talked to me since that July and it’s currently March. She wrote, in the beginning, that, “Sometimes life gets in the way of even the most important relationships.” She continued to apologize for her six years of absence. I welcomed them back with open arms, the minute I read their letters, I forgave them… with no second thought. Life cannot get in the way of our relationships, for our relationships are a part of life. Whether she likes it or not, I will always be a part of her life and she will always be a part of mine. I know she’s scared, but we can’t let those feelings get in the way of something that could be beautiful.

• 30 • My brother had aplastic anemia as a child. As an adult his blood cell counts were never normal, his drug use was how he managed his physical and emotional pain. Two years ago he died. I feel horrible, but it was such a relief when he passed away.

• 31 • I’m a 62 year old LBKA (Left Below the Knee Amputee). I was married for 23 years (raised three sons, the pride and joy of my life), divorced for seven years (my wife got tired of being a spouse and mother) and then met a beautiful nurse who has been married to me for the last four years. I’m a software designer down to 16 hours per week (four half days—curse this economy!) The amputation is due to an accident. When I was 20 and in the U.S. Air force, I was riding a motorcycle and got hit by a car. I kept the leg 27 years but it grew progressively more useless. In 2004, I got the amputation. It was the first time my children ever saw me walk without a limp. Life is filled with challenges, but very beautiful as well. Born Catholic, many year Methodist. Now an Atheist Unitarian Universalist. Love one another and practice peace.

• 32 • When I was 13 I was really into my eating disorder. I was in treatment six times in one year. A few times they were afraid they were going to lose me. I was home-schooled my freshman year of high school because I was in and out of treatment. My sophomore year I returned to school where I met my best friend. Things got better and I got through high school. I have graduated, turned 18 and am moving for college next week. My eating disorder plagued me as an adolescent, and although I may have been able to hide my love for my eating disorder for the past four years, but I can’t help but want it back. I know it will be hard for me to get that sick again because my family will make sure they stop paying for college if I do. I have never been more conflicted in my life. I love my eating disorder so much. Looking at me, you’d never know. Its funny how people assume only skinny people are anorexic. I am anorexic, but you’d never guess.

• 33 • The summer I was 17, I fell in love with a boy who was visiting my hometown for a month. We spent 22 days straight together. I loved our time, I was so happy, and felt so beautiful. One night I hugged him and made a remark at how skinny he was, and then he said he was self-conscious about it and that he was skinnier than me. We had to part after the 22 days, he moved on

and I didn’t, not right away at least. But ever since he’d said that—I’ve had body-image issues, and ultimately an eating disorder. I don’t even think he meant anything of it, but it stuck. Already at a slim 120 lbs, I changed my diet drastically and exercised and lost 15-20 lbs. I had to gain it back, and so I did and have been uncomfortable with it. When I started college I started purging after eating to lose the weight. I’m still trying to get over the bulimia, and think I’m almost there.

• 34 • I spent the most amazing two weeks of my life sneaking away to a cabin with the man I love. He’s the first man who ever had the power to silence me with a kiss or cease my thoughts with one hand against my skin. Two lives that contained so little happiness were suddenly full of it all the time. Our smiles were so constant they embarrassed us. We were going to destroy everything and hope that once people saw how changed we were, they would accept us. But it’s all over now. He changed his mind. And I’m terrified that it will never feel the same… That I will never be the same with another man… And it’s the scariest thought I have ever had. Even with the chronic depression and acute anxiety. The worst part is that I still see him… Everywhere. He’s one of my best friends.

• 35 • The only thing that I would ever want to tell the world is not something sad, it is not something complex or profound, but it is the only thing I’ve experienced in my life that is worth telling. I am a man, and I am in love with a man. It is small and it is simple, but it has changed my life. I will take that felling and I will save it and protect it with every fiber of my being until my heart has exhausted itself from the flutters that I feel every time I see his unspeakably beautiful face. It is magnificent and it is magical and it is truly the only thing that make me feel alive.

• 36 • I am a 20 year old, heathy girl. I’m in college, and a sorority, with a job I work hard at. I get decent grades, have friends who would be there for me not matter what, and a family who truly loves me. But I have suicidal thoughts. I’m plagued my sudden urges to drive my car over the guard rail, and off the overpass. These urges are accompanied by the thought that none of my stress would matter if I wasn’t alive. That scholarship I haven’t applied for wouldn’t be relevant. My terrible spending habit would be obsolete. I am a girl who has the world ahead of her, and wants nothing to do with it.

• 37 • I believe that there is a difference between being alone and loneliness. I choose to be alone most of the time, I thrive in solitude with no distractions and no accusations of being “too quiet.” Choosing to be alone is not a bad thing, but allowing loneliness to seep in when you are is. Loneliness magnifies what you’re feeling and it is rarely ever good. Unfortunately choosing to be alone can’t hide that there is something missing in my life. Maybe it’s because I have never been kissed, or never been in a relationship? The general feeling that I’m missing out on something that everyone else has. Or maybe because amongst my friends I’m the most caring and all I do is give and they just take. Never questioning what I had to give up. Or, simply a need for recognition and appreciation for all I have done in school, work and life. But I have come to accept that elusive emptiness and live my life by filling it with other things I love to do: work, school, or coaching/playing soccer. But when that is over and I’m sitting alone in my room it’s still there and I long to find out why.

I hope that one day, my life will truly feel complete and I’ll get where I am going.

• 38 • Our feet are always dirty because we don’t wear shoes or take enough showers. We sit outside and you all play your guitars and banjos and I dance around or hit my bongos or just sit and sing a little and listen. Sometimes we ride our bikes all over town at night when the streets are empty. We go so fast it feels like we’re flying. Our hair and clothes always smell like bonfires or cigarettes. We drink and dance and then take our clothes off and swim out to the center of the lake. Sometimes we just sit in parking lots, skateboards and dresses and streetlights and concrete. Endless photographs of smiling faces and bodies in the air and on the ground. Lying in the grass, listening to the wind and each other’s voices. Running through thunderstorms and pouring rain, no destination, just enjoying the thrill. Spontaneous drives to other cities and Lake Michigan beaches and amusement parks, windows down and music up. I love you all. I love our lives. I’m so happy I have these memories to keep and it breaks my heart to know that soon we will have to grow up and become real people.

• 39 • I love you so much but I’m so terrified that A) You will just use me for sex when I get back and that B) You don’t actually love me. I hate being so far away from you. I just want to be in your arms forever and never worry about anything. I have held myself back from so many people and the fact that I actually opened up and let you into my life and gave you love is so bewildering to me that it must be right. Typical that when I find someone to hold on to is the moment when I have to move across the country.

• 40 • I have a prosthetic will. Every night I swallow a few pills, white and nondescript. They’re what keep me alive; the pills help control my suicidal urges. Some nights, as I fall asleep, I’ll hear whispering, disembodied voice telling me

all the ways I deserve to suffer. You’ve probably seen me, though I’m like the pills I swallow: white and nondescript. I’m the person you see who’s somewhat reserved but calm and happy to talk. I’m the one who often looks deep in thought and maybe seems to be completely content. I promise you, that couldn’t be further from the truth. You know what I’ve noticed though? The days I hear a broken, suicidal record player in my head and the days I’m optimistic are indistinguishable to you. Your days are indistinguishable to me too. If you know me, I beg you, speak to me. I represent more than just the author of this. I need more than fragile prosthetics to keep going.

• 41 • I’m 23 years old and I want to change the world. I want to be the head of the United Nations and stop wars. I cry when I hear about people dying in other countries. I am going to college and hope to go to law school. I am really afraid I won’t be able to make it. I am afraid that my life will be meaningless if I don’t save the world. I live in the shadow of my father but I love him too much to be mad at him about it. I feel that if I am not better than him then I might as well kill myself. I feel that I am already failing.

• 42 • I’ve been in love with the same person for the last 26 years. He was my first boyfriend, my first kiss… Life separated us for 18 long years, he got married, had two kids, and me, I just lived on. Last year, he finally decided to separate from his wife and come back to me. It’s been almost three months. He is now depressed because he misses his kids so much. He is hurting badly. I cannot do anything but be there. How long will it take for him to adjust? Will he ever adjust to the new reality? As far as I can see, he is angry with himself and is not letting me help in anyway. I am very afraid he will go back to his family. And at 40 I am again, alone.

• 43 • My father never really talked with his family. There were a lot of grudges. Then one day my Aunt went missing. No one knew what had happened. Though she raised her son on her own and lived with her parents, she was happy. Her little son was her pride and joy. She wouldn’t have run away. Five months later her body was found in a man’s basement. We discovered that my Aunt met a man through a phone dating service. She really liked him and felt they might have a future together. They decided to meet. He took her to his home where he tried to steal her bank account card and such. When she put up a fight, he murdered her. It’s been several years but I will always remember that I never told my Aunt that I loved her.

• 44 • “I have to go.” Okay… so you have to go, I get it and I also get the fact that this isn’t the last time I’m going to talk to you but I don’t want to be left behind. Not for a second. It’s not being alone that bothers me, it’s that one second that absolutely kills me. The part where you physically go. The part where you leave me. After I’m left it’s all the same. I just wait. And I will continue waiting until I see you again.

• 45 • I loved this guy in high school for six years. Its been four years since we graduated. I’m engaged now, but not to him. I have to admit that if this guy came to me and admitted that he loved me too, I’d leave my fiance for him.

• 46 • I never thought I would be where I am today. I am a city girl living in the middle of nowhere with the military. I have always been extremely proud of the people that have served before me and have given me the rights that I have today. I definitely owe that to my grandfather who also served, although unwillingly at the time, but still everyday wore a hat with the flag on it and made sure it was also displayed on the front porch and taken down with as much respect as it was put up with. I didn’t aspire to be military, I didn’t even think about it until two years ago when I joined. I can say that I have an entirely different outlook now on life and the stories in the paper. I wish everyone was taught that military is a good thing and that people would stop disrespecting when we are truly lucky that we can even speak up for our rights because of them. I do have the up most respect for the soldiers, marines, sailors, and airmen that give their lives and if not that usually their sanity for my freedom. Thank you Grampa for teaching me respect and to be grateful for these people.

• 47 • I just discovered the identity of my ex’s new girlfriend—and I am wondering, what does she have that I do not possess? The pain is indescribable. I thought I had gotten over it, but apparently not. My heart is shattered all over again, and all I want to do is curl up and cry. But I gotta live and move on, because there are other people who need me in their lives—and who I mean the whole world to. And I know that one day, I will be happy once again. But right now, I need to have a good cry.

• 48 • I was always the one in the family that everyone thought would be the screw up. I dropped out of high school, had two kids before age 21 (18 & 20), drank alcohol, and just generally didn’t care about anything. And for a long time, I WAS the screw up. My sister graduated, waited to have children, held great jobs, and had a great long term, loving relationship. A few years ago, I met the man who is now my husband. We live in a great townhouse

in a nice neighborhood, he runs his own business, and I have a good job in administration, I got my GED and went to college, I don’t owe anything on my car, my kids are well behaved and make the honor roll each term. My sister now has 3 kids, 2 barely a year apart, she’s single, her last boyfriend tried to kill her, and the one before that cheated on her constantly. She lives in an apartment paid for by the government and gets food-stamps. She can’t find a decent job, and the only day-care in her small town just closed down due to the economy. She is all alone in raising those 3 boys. I sold her my van for only $500 just so she would have a vehicle (she insisted on paying SOMETHING or I would have given it to her for free). She can’t even afford to have a phone, so I can’t even talk to her on a regular basis. No internet or cable TV for the kids, either. I feel so guilty. I don’t know how this happened. She worked so hard to be something, and I never cared what I did. It just kind of fell in my lap, really. While I do make a little money, it’s far from enough to move her closer to me or to support her completely. I want to do something to make her life better. She’s always so depressed and sad. I wish I could make her happy. If anyone deserves a good life, it’s her. I just don’t know how to give it to her. It isn’t fair that I have a great life and she doesn’t.

• 49 • I stand alone in the world. I lost my father at sixteen to alcoholism, lost my mother five years ago to her own addiction and lost my sister to depression. I am stuck in a loveless marriage because I am too afraid to be out in the world with three children and alone. I have not been single for a moment since my father died and now I don’t know how to be. I look at people with loving families and I can’t help but be jealous. Most of the decisions I have made in life I have made out of fear. How do you get beyond fear? I continue to go to funerals every year for aunts and uncles that have never had anything to do with me… just so I will have a connection to something, even if it is another dead person. I feel as though in the end I will have only my children to show for my time on this planet, and that happiness will have eluded me the entire time.

• 50 • I am so in love with my husband! He may be my second husband, but he’s my first true love. We are from different countries and it hasn’t been easy for me and my son to live here with him, but every bit of effort has been worth it. Every moment with him feels like a blessing and I’ll jump through as many hoops as necessary to share a life with him forever.

• 51 • My sister is a sociopath. She stole my family from me… stole my mother’s money…. killed my mother and grandmother. She even had my mother cremated without permission and the cops and state’s attorney won’t even prosecute because they’re too “busy” with other things. In the meantime, I am left as a victim. The courts don’t care either. With my mother’s stolen money ($500k worth) the ugly bitch is dragging me through probate court trying to get the last dimes left. She admits to being this ugly inside and out and the courts and the law stand behind her ability to do so. “It’s fair” they say… fair for her to have killed my mother… fair for her to have stolen the last moments my mother could have had with her children and grandchildren… fair for her to have stolen every last dime during and after her life from her children (and there are more than just two of us) and her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Watch out world… the sociopath still wanders the earth… but God has a special place for her…. God is just and will make sure she will suffer the consequences of the choices she made in life. Death and God are the great equalizers.

• 52 • I am social worker, I am representing my client at another agency meeting on April 5th. The worker at the other agency raped me when I was 19.

• 53 • I weigh over 300 pounds and it is keeping me from living the life I really desire. I don’t understand why it is so hard for me to do what I need to do to lose the weight. I was sexually molested from the time I was in fourth grade until I was in high school by my stepfather and I never told anyone until I was 23-years-old. A lot of my life has been spent in solitude. I prefer to be alone most of the time. Sometimes I think that it’s not so bad to live a life this way but other times I want to be doing more with what I’ve been given.

• 54 • I am a 20 year old college student that has the whole world ahead of her. The only problem is that I can’t stop thinking about what is wrong with my life. All of my Great-Grandmothers died with Alzheimer’s or Parkinson’s disease and I am watching my Grandfather go through the same thing. I am so afraid that I will come home one weekend and he won’t remember me. I want more than anything to not be living my life and be able to leave this world, but the only thing that is keeping me here is my family. I know what it would put them through and I could NEVER do that to them. I just wish that I had something to live for other than my family. I know that if I ever have children or get married then I would put them through my chronic illnesses and that is the last thing I want. I don’t deserve anything that I have or any of the love that I am receiving from my family or any of the friends that I have. I am trying to put on a show for everyone to make them think that I am fine.

• 55 • When I was nine years old, I was molested by my male cousin (who was sixteen at the time). I recently told my best friend about it, but all she told me was “get over it.” How could I get over something that still haunts me to this day? Being molested isn’t a good thing and cannot be forgotten.

• 56 • I’m 20 years old. To most that’s young, yet I still fear death. I do not fear the pain, the loss of my life and everything in it, or the effect it may have on others. What truly terrifies me is what lies beyond death. I am an atheist and am fine with that, but that leaves little imagination of life after death. Nothingness is what scares me.

• 57 • I struggle every day with the fact that my father chose not to continue his life. There is a deep yearning inside to hear his jokes, see his smile, listen to his advice and in general be a father to his son. I don’t know how to let go and it’s tearing me up. I haven’t been able to stay in a relationship because when I near the point of loving them unconditionally I stray away, afraid of getting hurt again. So, I just hurt in my own little world. People around me notice that nothing makes me happy. They say, “You haven’t truly been happy in quite some time. You need to figure out what it is that makes you happy.” My father made me happy. Thinking of him doesn’t do it—it was his presence. Every day, I become more and more like him. Same mannerisms, same personality, same look. What I fear now is that the depression will come too and soon I will be taking my own life.

• 58 • I’m a liar. I lie so much, that there are some things I’ve actually started to believe. I tell people I’m Puerto Rican to avoid being called ‘white girl’. I have my whole fake history going back like, four generations. When I was thirteen I met this guy, we dated for about a year on and off, but I tell people it was two. Makes it seem more attached. I also say I lost my virginity to him, and got pregnant but lost the baby. Wrong, but I actually got so attached to the fake baby that I cried for months when I got my period. I actually lost it to this guy I met on vacation, and thought I was really pregnant. Wrong, same reaction. I tell people that I hallucinate, and even though I know what’s real

and what isn’t, I’ve started talking to people that aren’t there. I’m sixteen, and I’m starting to believe that nothing is real. I’m scared.

• 59 • Yesterday I cried. Today I felt like it a few times, but the night is young and I’m still alone, still out of control, and I’m not going to wash my hands of the possibility of tears just yet… I couldn’t help but feel that as I said goodbye to my dad, I was also saying “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry for what I’ve done and for what I’m going to do. I’m sorry that the spirit of his little girl, his oldest little girl, the one he loves so much, is slowly but surely fading. Being happy is more work now. It doesn’t come as naturally as it did before. It all depends on me and my self control. What I look like, or what I perceive myself to look like, rather. It’s hard to be happy when what you do and who you are is never quite good enough. I’m letting them down because they don’t understand. They don’t understand how their little girl whom they love so much could refuse to love herself. They don’t understand how someone, their baby, whom they think is the most beautiful baby in the world, could be unable to see herself as such. They don’t understand that when I politely refuse a breakfast or a lunch date that it’s the calories that I don’t want, not their company. My dad doesn’t understand that when I flinch when he hugs me it’s because I don’t want him to feel what’s left of me, not because I don’t need his touch, because there’s nothing I want more than for him to hold me as tight as he possibly can and tell me that it’s “All going to be OK.” That he’ll fix it, fix me, but deep down I know that no one can take this from me besides myself. I am my own disease and my own cure. I am my own worst enemy and my only lifeline. “Eating disorder not otherwise specified” Anorexic with bulimic tendencies.

Bulimic with anorexic tendencies. Whatever the fuck you wanna call it. Five years and counting.

• 60 • My boyfriend would rather jump off a cliff than spend time with me.

• 61 • The person I was best friends with for the past four years hasn’t talked to me in six months. And I deserve it. I always made her feel bad about herself so I would feel better about myself. I’m sorry.

• 62 • Medical school is not what I expected. All books and lectures for the first couple years. Then I guess we learn actual medicine. It seems nurses do most of the practical things, while doctors do the heavy thinking. And take all the blame if things go awry. I often wonder if I should have gone into nursing instead. I’d actually spend time with patients & get to take care of them. And I’d get really good at one or two things, like starting IV lines. Still, I’ve had some cool opportunities to get some hands-on experience. I gave my first pap smear & pelvic exam today. I’m oddly proud of it. Mostly I’m really grateful that patients let me practice on them. How many women would be OK with me putting a finger in their vagina? Just sayin’ is all. The human body is disgusting and awesome.

• 63 • I’ve never met anyone who I’d live my life for. There are a lot of people who I care about and who I would die for, but no one really who I could imagine the world without. I hope that it all changes. I don’t know if those kinds of interactions are weak—like the really passionate connections. It makes me believe that it’s real and I shouldn’t give up yet, but maybe there are problems with any kind of connection. We just idealize stuff to make it better. There

are some people who I really love though. People that have come close. I just wonder. It makes me not want to stop meeting new people ever. Never give up! I never want to have to use another person, though. It has to be mutual. It scares me not knowing what’s real, though. I know I’ve believed and trusted things, people, and ideas that don’t mean anything, but maybe it’s because I don’t let them, or maybe it’s because they just don’t. Maybe one day everything will fall apart, and I’ll just know that what I feel is 100% real, no lies, but maybe when I wake up the next day, it won’t mean anything. I want to know that the moment when it felt right was real and not just a brainwashed feeling. I don’t know if it even fucking matters, no one has really made me feel that way. One day… One day, though.

• 64 • The first thing I did when I came to the U.S. was cry. I wasn’t very young or prone to crying, but the weight of being away from my native Israel was too much. The second thing I did was eat shrimp. You could NEVER get those in Jerusalem.

• 65 • When I was 30 years old, I gave birth to my beautiful daughter. When I was 32, I held her as she died in my arms. I am now 37, and have accepted the fact that my husband and I will never conceive a healthy child—our genes don’t mix well. I would like everyone else around me to accept that fact too, and quit asking us when we plan to adopt. We don’t. Period. After you have watched a child suffer for two years like we did, your heart can’t take much more.

• 66 • I just walked out of a vintage shop and it has been a great ending to a crappy day. Work was horrible and at times I just want to cry and give up. Lately I’ve been filled with a lot of despair but when I saw this I felt happy. I’m not

sure exactly why. I’ve been fighting with my feelings a lot lately. I’m bi and I can’t seem to accept that. I hope that everything will turn out. Wish me luck.

• 67 • I’m an Asian and white female art student, but what does that mean? I am an artist, but what does that mean? Last night we snuck out of orientation and got trashed in graffiti alley, some gutter punk told me his life story and I felt nothing because everyone is hopeless. We are all hopeless, we just need to pull it together and live hopelessly and not die with regrets, you know?

• 68 • I came here (to America) to bring a cancer patient for treatment. After two months of treatment he went home. He slept in his own bed that night. The next morning he was gone.

• 69 • When I was 8, my estranged father died. My mother told me he had been “sick.” When I was 14, I googled his name and came up with the headline “Deputies identify body found in remote area.” He had hanged himself. I am nearly 18 years old and my mom still doesn’t know that I know. I like to tell myself it’s because I’m strong, I don’t need to talk about it, but deep down I know the truth: Without this secret, I have no one to blame my problems on… but myself.

• 70 • Last night I hooked up with a boy I really like. A week ago I hooked up with his ex-girlfriend! Both were incredibly sexy. I’ve never felt like more of a badass.

• 71 • I stopped calling him because he kept sticking his tongue in my ear. It sounded terrible and felt even worse, and any tiny amount of attraction I had for him evaporated with the saliva. Saliva! My mom couldn’t understand why it was a deal breaker for me (Why did I tell my mom about this?). That only made me wonder more whether she had completely settled for my dad, and had managed to become immune to the skin crawlies, or if it meant she loved him so much that he just didn’t disgust her. I don’t think I understand intimacy at all.

• 72 • I was standing in a train station, waiting to take the Long Island Rail Road to Merrick, NY. As I was standing amongst the throngs of people waiting for the evening train out of Manhattan, a young woman approached me.

“Can I ask you for a bizarre favor?” she asked.

“How bizarre is your request?” I replied.

“Well, (almost laughing), I’d like you to read me a poem.”

I asked her if she had a poem in mind, cause I was fresh out. She had a book of poems. Apparently, she wanted to try overcoming fears of hers. This was a manifestation of her fear of approaching people who she wanted to approach but felt shy to do so. I tried to explain to her, as she explained her logic in wanting me to read her a poem—that she had won! She had successfully approached me and made me interested in her.

Still, “I don’t think you need me to read you this poem, but I’ll still do it,” I said. “Please,” she said. So I read her that fucking poem, and it was beautiful. Her name was Theresa.

• 73 • I thought I recovered from my depression. I no longer consider suicide. But I also don’t know how to appreciate life.

• 74 • I am suffering from depression and it is ruining my college experience, I’ve had a hard life but I am so proud of what I have come to be. But for the last four months, I’ve been to a place I haven’t been to in years. I’m refusing to give up on myself but I’m dying to be myself again.

• 75 • I think that we really are getting a divorce. Part of that breaks my heart and another part of that leaves me very relieved. I’m not sure what I should do now. We aren’t there yet, still living together just not really ‘together’. I see her less these days. She’s always with someone else, having fun. I’m here alone at home, trying to figure out when it all went wrong.

• 76 • Yeah, I think you’re an asshole. Yeah, I know I could do infinitely better than you. I know that you’re stupid and intimidated by my intelligence. I know. I know all of this and none of it makes it any easier to see you and her strolling past my door as soon as I step outside. I hate you for testing me. For pretending to be a nice guy. And for not seeing in me what I see in myself. It shouldn’t matter. But that heavy feeling in my chest says otherwise.

• 77 • I can’t stop drinking. There is happiness at the bottom of that bottle, I’m certain. There’s this boy, erm, man who I’m not sure is being real with me, how can you trust what another person says? Don’t know how to create conversation and my backbone went out the window years ago. There is so much potential, but it’s being wasted away and all I want out of life is to be happy.

• 78 • Lately I’ve been exposed to more and more overtly religious people. Not that I’m against religion or anything, I just do not understand the obsession with it. Today, I saw at least sixty students proudly sporting an ash cross on their foreheads. My first reaction was to joke about it. Like, “hey, man, you got some dirt on your face,” or “can I get a smiley face on my cheek?” And for whatever reason, such comments are extremely insulting. Like worse than any “yo’ momma” statement. Like more taboo than simply yelling “FUCK!!!!”. These people scare me, but whether they make their beliefs known through a t-shirt or Facebook status, I HAVE to say something witty and “blasphemous” about it. It’s a compulsion. Maybe one day I’ll understand the views of the crazies, but, for now, observing and poking fun is enough.

• 79 • I cheated on an online test I didn’t need to cheat on. I was caught and I’m afraid of the consequences that may come. I know I will regret this and feel guilty for this the rest of my life.

• 80 • I feel like time is flying by me. I know everyone feels like this sometimes. But I hate it. I hate seeing it slip by without my noticing, I hate wondering where it went, I hate feeling like I’ve wasted it. I am so afraid of looking back thirty years from now and having regrets.

• 81 • Life is too short to waste away worrying what the guy next to you at the bus stop thinks about your shoes.

• 82 • About a week ago, I met a girl on a website called Omegle, this is an anonymous chatting website. We got on really well, so decided to swap MSN addresses. We have been talking loads, and we still haven’t got bored of each others company. We both really like each other, and she has put a smile on my face for about five days straight. I feel like I am overflowing with happiness, I didn’t know someone could be so amazing.

• 83 • I still sleep with my stuffed animal. Her name is bunny, and I have had her since my first birthday. I am far too old to keep her, but she is soft and I don’t like sleeping alone.

• 84 • I lie a lot. I lie mostly to my family because they’re so nosey and I don’t want them in my business. I whore around a lot. Mostly with black men who don’t deserve me. They seem to be the most fun out of any race.

• 85 • I am forever sorry for taking out all of my past grievances on you. I’m sorry my mother’s death makes me so scared of us.

• 86 • Some days, it’s just easier to fuck everything up and live without responsibility. I’m paranoid that I’m being judged by everyone, because I’m guilty. But living with this disease is both a blessing in disguise and a curse for loneliness. I’m tired of doing what everyone else wants. If only you knew how hard this really is, you would understand why I need this. I need to be me, and I need to make mistakes.

• 87 • I don’t know who I am anymore… But I guess even if I did, it wouldn’t change anything I don’t know if you realize what amazing feat you have accomplished here, but people who take the time the time to care about other people’s lives give me hope.

• 88 • I didn’t know what it was like to have a loving mother until I moved out. Even though I see her every week, I’m scared that I’m being a bad daughter because I decided to grow up and live my own life. I’m even more scared that when she’s gone, I’m going to regret not seeing her more often when I had the chance.

• 89 • The truth is that I miss being with someone who was only good at breaking my heart.

• 90 • Life is good. I don’t let the negative bring me down. Ya know as cliche as it sounds tomorrow’s another day, we could all use another dollar but why fret over the little things. Be happy, live life, and dance if you get a chance!

• 91 • I need to start believing in myself. I deserve the things that I work for. I am worthy of accomplishing my goals. I can start over at 30 and not fail.

• 92 • Sometimes I lie down in the mud and leaves and know that’s the dirtiest I’ll ever have the guts to be.

• 93 • I’m 16 years old and I think the most frustrating thing in the world is that I know why I was put on this Earth (to save people’s lives) but I’m trapped learning pre-calculus and learning french verbs. All I want to do is run away from this country, because this culture does not suit me, and help where my help is needed. I’m tired of calling nursing homes and being rejected. I just want to help someone. Save someone. Please. Let me help you.

• 94 • It is February 26th and I haven’t cut since fall. I am proud to be healing. I wish I could say I didn’t still miss it so much. I didn’t stop because I believed it to be wrong; I stopped because I made a promise to someone. I can’t break it again.

• 95 • I have epilepsy and when I look at the amount of medication I take each week, it makes me feel sick to my stomach. This has been the case for the first 17 years of my life, and it will be for the rest of my life as well. Here’s to a life I didn’t ask for.

• 96 • I am becoming the person I pretend to be. But that person is not me, and I’m losing who I really am to an eating disorder that controls my life. Most people only know about anorexia and bulimia, but I have binge eating disorder. Since no one really knows much about it, that they all think the simple solution is to just stop eating. It just doesn’t work that way. I need to find me again, and find the strength to tell someone what’s happening.

• 97 • I’ve written three books on overcoming the trauma of rape. I have lectured at dozens of colleges, telling my story of survival. I work with young women every day helping them deal with their rapes and the aftermath. I am a complete fucking fraud. I was never raped. I have profited from a lie. I am a worthless human being and I can never apologize enough.

• 98 • I’m not happy at the college I attend. I haven’t been happy since I got here, and as such, I haven’t been performing academically as well as I can. Even so, I’m performing better than many, just not up to my own high standards. So in five days, I am dropping out and going home. I don’t feel like a failure, but I’m obviously not proud of myself. I don’t know how to feel, because there is no feeling in the middle of everything. I guess I just feel bad that I don’t feel bad.

• 99 • I have lost my way… I have raised my children well, I have been the loyal and supportive wife of a military man for over 20 years. Along the way I have lost parts of me and my desires and dreams. I do not know what to do with myself anymore. I feel as if I am empty inside my head like my brains were replaced with cotton. Is it too late for me?

• 100 • I’m a morning person. I have been one for most of my life. I stopped for awhile in my teen years, but don’t we all? Anyway, when I was three years old we were staying in an apartment over my god-parents garage while our house was under construction. On “that” morning I woke before the rest of my family and used the lack of supervision to explore. It wasn’t too long before I found a rusty pair of pliers. Of course, like everyone else, I clamped them on my penis… and I couldn’t open them up to remove them. I swear I can still feel the terror as I ran through the apartment screaming. That’s a true story. It was also once used as my description on match.com and it was my wife’s first impression of me.

• 101 • Some days, like today, I think about just quitting and stopping. Outside, I’m the perfect student and son. Inside, I don’t know what I’m doing. My life feels like a never ending pattern that I can’t stop. I study, socialize, eat, sleep, and repeat. There is no meaning to my actions, no passion for my ambition, no feelings for others. My relationships have suffered but I don’t know what to do. I can’t ask for help because then I wouldn’t be perfect anymore. Everything is crashing around me but I can’t even help myself. Some days, like today, I think about just quitting life.

• 102 • I want to write something meaningful, but that is impossible. So I will write something for me and nothing for you.

• 103 • Yes, I know I’m young, but honestly, from the bottom of my very soul, want to ask him to marry me.

• 104 • I feel like I’ve spent most of my life playing it safe. Everything’s been calculated—there are just no more surprises. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I just ditched my routine and did something spontaneous, I don’t know, followed a dream for a change. But as soon as I think about it I realize that nothing will change. I will continue this monotonous life because I am too scared of what else could be out there.

• 105 • I’m a drug addict. I use for fun. The fun causes me trouble. The trouble causes me stress. I use to alleviate stress. The using causes me trouble, and so on. I can’t stop. I want help, but don’t want help. I need help.

• 106 • I may be lost, and I may be scared, but I am definitely NOT finished.

• 107 • When I was younger I wanted to be a singer. As the years went by I became convinced that I wasn’t pretty enough to be one. People just mindlessly say and do things without thinking about others. It’s upsetting and my self esteem is still in shambles. It has only been recently that I’ve been able to see the good in my body. I find that it helps to look at yourself as if you’re not you. It works. I now want to be an actress. I’ve been told that I’m pretty good. It makes me happy to think that other people derive some sort of enjoyment out of something I’ve done. My looks still worry me. I’m afraid they might stunt my ability to act in plays and movies but I’m still going to try. It’s no use worrying about something if you can’t change it. You can only try and hope that with copious amounts of begging and bugging they’ll look at you for talent. I still kinda want to be a singer.

• 108 • I work as a receptionist for a popular company. The girls in the office all have our favorite people to talk to. Mine so happens to call in once every few weeks from Coast Wholesale. Trying not to sound like a stalker I get excited when I get to talk to him. It’s like bumping into someone you have a crush on. Even though the conversations are fairly brief. It’s the highlight of my week all the time.

• 109 • My name is Patrick. I’m 15 years old and my mom just caught me smoking marijuana. I feel disappointed in myself.

• 110 • I have survived cancer. Every day I am grateful to be alive… yet sometimes I find myself still being selfish and not fully living my life up. I wanna live my life more and not sweat the small stuff. I wanna live each day with no worries about little things and just learn to… live.

• 111 • I will be twenty within the next few days. Today I realized that I have spent the last three years of my life watching the girl of my dreams slowly digging herself a hole that she will never get out of. This girl has ruined every relationship I have had since her, and when I break it off to be with her, she tosses me to the side where I sulk, waiting patiently for her to come to her senses. It hasn’t happened yet. I believe that one of the most painful things to see, other than your own death, is to watch someone else slowly become their worst enemy through a series of poor decisions and some unsavory characters. On top of that, I realized that I am the worst person ever. I am egotistical. I use people. I burn more bridges than I build. I put people down to make myself feel better. I am not a nice person. I am spiteful.

All of these things cease to exist when I’m with her, even if only for a split second. She brings out the best in me, or rather anything good that’s still left. Yet, she fails to realize it. Maybe someday, she will finally get it.

• 112 • Everything is pointing me towards the fact that God simply does not exist. But I’m scared to accept that.

• 113 • Today I found my old pipe. I went out to the rundown building that stores all of my possessions, for now. I rummaged around, and I found my pipe, grinder, lighter, etc. I pulled out my computer chair sat down amongst the rubble of my former life, and I cleaned out the resin. As I return to the bickering family I reside with for two more months… I smiled to myself, knowing that they had no idea.

• 114 • Reading a few of these journals, I realized that I have not kept in touch with anyone I went to college with. I graduated in 1977. I have such fond memories of Ann Arbor and all the people I knew there—how could I have left them all behind? How much richer would my life have been if I had kept in touch?

• 115 • My neighbor got drunk and told me I was beautiful, had a wonderful smile and laugh. Then he kissed me, and I kissed him back. Now he can’t look me in the eye. Did he mean any of it?

• 116 • I had cancer when I was 14. Now I see beauty in everything.

• 117 • I’m only 18 years old, and here I am obsessing over what the fuck I’m going to do with my life. Why do I feel as though I need the perfect GPA? The best career? The fancy car? Why can’t I just be content with what I have? Why can’t I just stop, sniff the roses and live in the moment?

• 118 • It’s raining outside my window. I hear the cars going by, passing the puddles. It sounds nice. When I look outside, everybody tries to hide the wetness. I always liked the smell of rain. It’s pure and sweet. And I like it on my skin, but only when I am naked. Maybe this summer. This morning I listened to my favorite song in the car on my way to work. It made me cry again. Thick black tears, like always. The guy in the truck next to me picked his nose, while the lights were red. Then he lit a cigarette. His truck had an airbrush at the door showing a Native American with a war-bonnet. Why do we always forget that there is an outside, while we are inside?

• 119 • I wanted to believe there was more to me than meets the eye. Like I could be bigger and badder than anyone out there. I could come out on top, not in the nasty sense. But in the sense that I’d be someone who people could look up to. But I guess it doesn’t seem to matter. I care too much about what people think, I have lost myself. People see me for the disease I bare on my arms, the disease I’m trying to rid myself of without medicine. They call me beautiful, they call me brave, stupid, and strong. While they can see the pain, they don’t have to feel it. It’s easy to feel bad for someone, but you know you wouldn’t want to be in their shoes anyway…

• 120 • I think if I were more outgoing, I would get more out of life. It seems like when I am myself, and continue to show the world all that I have in store for it, everything works out alright.

Especially in terms of romance. I get more out of it all when I just relax and go with the flow. I need to stop shutting people out and just see what happens. I shouldn’t just sit there and wait for something to come directly to me; because the sad truth is that is won’t. New philosophy: Grab life by the balls. Before someone else does…

• 121 • No one is completely honest. Not one person in this world. The sooner you realize this, the happier you will become.

• 122 • I am a young man at the age of 19, I have a healthy body, and all my appendages work, and I know I am blessed for that. But my teeth, well, I have no two teeth in the same direction. I am embarrassed to smile and even though I have a good personality and a great sense of humor I keep myself from meeting new people for I am afraid to smile around them. Then I met Sabina, we have been dating for a year and a half and I can smile around her, and even my family now. I have never smiled in front of anyone before. She is the first person to give me an open mouthed laugh. I’m the luckiest person I’ve ever met.

• 123 • I need to get away. I need to escape. I am not thriving where I am currently and I know if I were to be in a different environment, with new people, great things would come of it. This is all I have known my whole life and I am ready for a change. I am bored. I am frustrated with the people in my life. I’m not as happy as I used to be. I am ready to up and leave and maybe never come back. I need to be more brave. I need to stop caring. I need to do what I truly want. I need to be happy.

How do I go about this? Do I just get in my car and leave? Well I don’t have enough money to do so. Do I start walking? Maybe. I hope someday soon I come across the answer I am looking for. What I do know is that I need to be free.

• 124 • I’ve always tried to stay quiet. If I text someone and they’re busy I leave them alone. But it gets hard to stay quiet. People plan stuff around me without ever telling me but when I find out I’m never angry. People will just abandon me but then after a few weeks when they need help I just can’t refuse. I’ve tried to stop caring but when I do I feel like a monster. I never get angry no matter what someone does to me. When I even think about just leaving someone alone who’s abandoned me before and I know will do it again I just feel selfish. I’m just a huge pushover. If someone asked me for help then I probably would no matter what it was. When I don’t, even if its just something small like cleaning I feel guilty for weeks afterword. Oh well it was really cool of you to listen to me. Thanks, it meant a lot.

• 125 • Last night, I rolled up two comforters inside each other so that I could hug/ sleep next to them. When I closed my eyes, I could almost convince myself that it was him, and I don’t know why I haven’t done it ‘til now. It’s silly, I know.

• 126 • I am 20 years old and I have no idea what to do with my life. My family is extremely poor and they expect me to do something great with my life but I just don’t know what to do. My biggest fear is letting them down. I have tried telling them this and they just say “honey, we’re proud of you no matter what you do.” They’re lying through their teeth. I can see the desperation in their eyes.

• 127 • I’m a 21 year-old music student in Cape Town, South Africa. Grew up in a good middles-class family, very religious and conservative. Yet I am an atheist who deals weed to make a bit of extra cash. I’m awesomely happy to have recently realized that I’m allowed to form my own opinions, and decide what makes me happy. It doesn’t have to be Jesus (praise the Lord). I constantly find myself double-guessing my own views, gotta stop it. I have a morbid fear of people realizing that I am actually shallow. I would rather die then wear symbols I don’t understand.

• 128 • When I was a little girl, I used to confuse my dreams with reality. Things that never actually happened would appear as vivid memories in my mind, and I would try desperately to convince my parents that it was real. They’d rub my back and say that I just dreamt it, that I just had a very active imagination. I’ve heard that this is quite normal for children. Which is why I’m hoping that my crippling and horrible fear that you molested me was all a dream.

• 129 • There’s a squirrel-feeding club on the Ann Arbor campus. A group of intellectuals take time out of their academic pursuits to patronize these fuckers who are now immune to the chaos of civilization. They’re fat and fearless. It wasn’t enough that America is obese—they had to get the squirrels in on it too. Spoon-fed, spoiled fuckers. And I wonder: Why are you offering the rodent a nut when the homeless can’t get a buck? Or a coke? Or a cashew? They can’t get a flying fuck. I loathe the squirrels… and hamsters, for that matter. And I want to tell you this straight: If a squirrel could choose between coughing up his protein ball to you or a fellow tail owner, guess what? YOU LOSE. The paper today talked of a squirrel being responsible for wiping out a power grid. Blast squirrels. Talk to me about Gaza.

• 130 • I have been everywhere, but I can’t find a home for myself. I know that family and my heart is where home is, but I want my own home where I’m happy at and with what I have in my life. I broke off a couple of engagements and ran away to where nobody knew me. Still, I can’t find it. Some say that’s because I’m coming from a broken home but that isn’t it. It is that because I see people are willing to chase their dreams but the question is how to they find them without the future telling us?

• 131 • I’m 17 trapped in a 22 year old’s body, with the maturity of a 30 year old and the imagination of a three year old. It used to drive me crazy. I used to get confused. People never quite grasp my complexity. But I’m learning—sure it’s crazy, and hellishly (is that a word?) confusing, but it’s my life. And I’m seeing it in many different views.

• 132 • I woke up this morning and gave myself a look and realized I hated the person who I was. So I got the fuck out of my house and struck out on my own.

• 133 • I’m a freight train rider. I’ve been to three continents, three countries. I’ve been on the road for 16 years. Saw many people and many places. 32 and still looking for life.

• 134 • I went to Bonnaroo and got hit by a golf cart. It. Was. Awesome.

• 135 • I am eighteen years old and for the first time in my life I am going to have a home. One. Singular. All my belongings in one location. This was the product of a crazed and painful divorce, however, I fear my life (and/or my mental state) will not be any less scattered. I guess I don’t mind… not that I know any different. Maybe I’ll settle down eventually, but for now I’ll be in my dorm most weekends, and maybe find my next home somewhere far far away from everything I’ve known.

• 136 • I visited Kenya last winter and for a few days stayed in a Masai village in Masai Mara. The Masai are one of the best preserved traditional tribes in Africa. They are the people you see with stretched out ear lobes and red blankets as clothing in National Geographic. The red blankets symbolize the blood of their cattle. In fact before they wore any clothes, they rubbed red dirt on themselves for sun protection, and the red is also how lions identify the Masai hunters. The lions know to stay away from them. One night I sat outside by a campfire with six or seven of the men of the village. We tried to communicate: They spoke very little English and I spoke zero Mao, their tribal language. They asked me whether the sun rose on the same side of the horizon in America and whether New York City is as big as Nairobi, Kenya’s capital. I asked them whether they had invented constellations in their culture, which was very trying to communicate, but we managed. They do, but these men laughingly admitted that they couldn’t remember them anymore. I mentioned the stars because they were unbelievably different from what I was used to—I’ve been out west and seen more than are out at home in Ann Arbor, but this was absurd. I could actually see the shape of the milky way I think, and they filled the huge skyline without leaving hardly any black space. The only thing I regret about my trip is that I can’t look at the stars at home anymore without regret.

• 137 • I wish I was in college instead of a washed up 25 year old lawyer. Yes, I make good money, but what I would give for three-dollar beer and bad pizza.

• 138 • My life is in utter shambles. I have a degree. I produced a radio show. My family is fucked up, but whose isn’t? They’re awesome. I worked in the food & wine industry. I worked for a President of the United States. I was a female escort… yes, escort. Somehow I got the bright idea that selling my body would be OK. It wasn’t. Oh, not like anything particularly BAD happened… I just have no future. I can’t run for office. I can’t model. I can’t be an actress. All for fear that one of the “men” will see me and try to blackmail me. Everything I ever wanted will never be mine. Six dudes, six weeks, and $3,000.

• 139 • Although I was only tired and hungry, my face must have shown more than that. Out of nowhere, this boy walked up and said, “Yes, sometimes life is pretty hard and rotten, but it’ll pass. Things will get better, just wait and see. Meanwhile, this always helps.” He hands me a cupcake and walks away before I can say anything. Years later, I still don’t know who you are, but I’ve been wanting to find a way to say thank you.

• 140 • I am nineteen years old and still not sure what I want to do with my life. Sometimes I worry one day I’ll wake up much older and realize I’ve never done anything worth doing. Other times I think maybe I’m getting things right. The world seems like a confusing place right now. I mean, we’re at war—our economy seems to be falling apart around here. What kind of world will I be living in in ten years or so? Will anything that I care about now still matter? Whatever the case, I suppose all I can do is wait and see. Hope things get clearer soon.

• 141 • I am the most dishonest person you will ever meet. Everyone I know thinks I’m someone different.

• 142 • Last week I took a vacation. Went away from my house, my family, my wife. Met an amazing woman. We flirted for a few days and on the last night I slept with her. Will I take another vacation? When will this one end?

• 143 • When I was a kid, I had dreams or something like that, where as I was sleeping in my bed, puppets would come up from under my bed and tickle me. I say it was a dream, but I’m still very convinced (25 year later) that the puppets were really there. Even to this day I will not sleep without at least a sheet. The idea of being vulnerable to small puppets freaks me out.

• 144 • Last week, I tried a do-it-yourself bikini wax kit. It was labeled “with lavender for sensitive skin.” I thought, “my skin is sensitive, let’s try it.” After 30 minutes of sweat-breaking wax-action, I had only completed half my bikini region. I was in so much pain that night that I could barely sleep. For the

next week, I could barely walk and had half-scab-covered-half bushy… region. Yes, I tore off so much skin, I scabbed. I have little wisdom to offer in my 23 years of life, but I plead you to spread the word to be careful and leave the professionals to the dirty deeds.

• 145 • On my 11 hour plane ride back from Germany, I sat next to an Uzbekistani man who didn’t speak a word of English and was visiting the U.S. for the first time. We had a 20-minute conversation by pointing to phrases in his early-90s Russian-English translation phrase book. When it was time for our little airplane dinner, he mimicked everything I did, except he picked up the little vinaigrette dressing and sipped it straight, with vigor. Maybe they drink salad dressing in Uzbekistan. I’ll have to go there and find out.

• 146 • I have $24 in my bank account, and I start work in one month. Work, unfortunately and fortunately, is in San Bernardino, California. I have never been there. The story, I guess, will be getting from here to the desert on $24, and then the details.

• 147 • Walking the streets of Ann Arbor… 30 years after graduation, unemployed, unwilling to relocate and finding myself picking up apps and questioning if it’s all worth it. How can so many be in such difficult times on such a beautiful summer day? SOMETHING has to break soon—hopefully not my spirit or willingness to appreciate this life. God bless you.

• 148 • I am left with what feels like the dying embers of what was a very good relationship. I want to marry this boy so badly that I even dream about it. Oddly specific, don’t you think? But over the course of four years he has sown

enough doubt into his true intentions for me to say, now, that he really wants to be with me. After four years, “I don’t know” is the same as “no,” right?

• 149 • I’ve come to find that life really is like a roller coaster. It gets really really bad, then suddenly its okay again and I can live through it, then it starts sucking again and I just trudge through it realizing that it WILL get better, so it gives me something to look forward to.

• 150 • I hate everything I do; it was all to get into college. Now that I’m accepted into the college of my choice, I do not know what to do or where to start.

• 151 • I have been HIV+ for more than 20 years. Now I have MS. I could let it get me, but that is not in my nature. I imagine a metal box, like the kind my parents used to keep important papers in. This box is in my head and I know every day, either of these things could take me out, but so could so many other things. I put the crap in the box and shut it. I know it is there, I know what is in it, and I must admit, I do look inside on occasion. Everyday is not perfect, but is it for anyone? I know so many have it much harder, at least I have insurance to cover my $16,000 a month meds—sick huh, why should it cost so much. I just want to work, live my life and try to do something nice for someone along the way. Oh yeah, a cure for either HIV/AIDS or MS would be a plus.

• 152 • I am a typical, average person; I live a common American lifestyle, I have traveled nowhere spectacular, and I have never accomplished anything extraordinary. Yes that is perfectly fine. I have come to realize that I don’t have to “be somebody,” as in somebody famous, worldly, or “popular.” Someone

taught me this once: All that truly matters is being somebody special to just one person—touching just one person’s life in a way that no one else can. My life has been touched, and I have been blessed. To others it may seem ordinary, but to me what has happened in my life and all the people who have affected my life mean the world to me. So this is an average story, about my average life, but to me my life is far from ordinary. Much more is to come, and I can only hope that I one day will touch the life of another in a way that no one else can!

• 153 • There are times when I have felt aimless, tired, lonely, stretched, anxious, and overwhelmed. The times when people tell me I’m an idealist, to grow up, wake up and be something you are not. I have made many mistakes and yet enough people have seen enough in me to put me in the healthy, happy situation I am today. They probably had no idea about how their own optimism concerning my character has positively affected my life. Don’t doubt that you have shaped other peoples lives for the better without even realizing it, and don’t doubt that most people in the world will not notice, appreciate or understand this. The ones who do will forever be in your debt as you are to the people who have moved your world. Believe in people, the reward is rare but worth every second. That is the most worthwhile thing I have learned in my short time on this planet.

• 154 • To you: Every day of my life I think of you. For three years now, every day. You hurt me—put me through so much. And now you have yours. Consequences are vicious. But somewhere in my heart, I thank you. I thank you for making me the person I am today and I wish you the best of luck, sir.

• 155 • At times, not usual, but also not rare, I feel like I worry too much. How will my life end up, am I ready for the future, am I grown enough, am I emotionally and mentally stable? Do I worry too much, or do I worry like everyone else? No one to talk to, I think they’ll find me a creep, or an insane person. I bottle up everything, hardly say anything to anyone. Wish I had the answers to everything, waiting for something in my life to show itself clearly and relieve me of my worries, stress, paranoia. But that’s only at times. Not usual, but not rare either.

• 156 • I’m falling for a guy that isn’t good for me—but his oatmeal cookies sure are. I remain seated. No regrets.

• 157 • I am 30 years old. I live in my parent’s basement. They did it to help me go to college. I am currently working full time and going to college full time. I feel like I will never leave their basement. My fiance left because of it, but he wasn’t working to help out. I don’t think I’ll ever find someone else due to low self esteem from weight issues. I wish people could see past the few pounds I’m overweight and actually give me a chance. But, as shallow as people don’t like to see themselves, they are. It has given me the worst self esteem out of anyone I know. I wanted to write to maybe hopefully change one persons mind about the way they view other people. Just because someone is slightly overweight, does not mean they are dirty, trashy or stupid. We know we’re heavy. You don’t have to give us dirty looks, some of us try to not be that way but it is hard. Look what you’ve done to my self esteem. My weight comes from a surgery that went wrong. I did not eat myself into oblivion. Look what you did to my trust. No one wants me.

• 158 • I know there’s someone out there meant for me. Someone I am meant for. I don’t know who they are, whether they are male or female, my age, older, younger. So I will keep my mind open. I won’t give up until I find that person. I feel like I’m waiting for them, waiting to truly live until I find them. I just hope that I recognize them when I see them, and that I don’t wait too long to live.

• 159 • I met my husband when I was 19. Our relationship was slow to blossom because his last relationship ended badly because of infidelity. I put a lot of patience and effort into earning his trust and proving I would never cheat on him. I left everything behind to live with him on an Army base, and we decided to start a family. I just found out my husband is cheating on me, with the ex that cheated on him. He doesn’t know that I know, and as much as it breaks my heart, I don’t think I’m strong enough to leave him. I’m not sure I’ll ever tell him I know.

• 160 • I’m in this place where I actually am genuinely happy with the way things are. I don’t want it to change, I want to keep looking up, keep moving forward, and continue seeing the good in every situation.

• 161 • I was walking home from the library and I came across a man playing the violin beautifully. He played jigs and reels and bitter sweet tunes, so I sat and listened to him for close to an hour. When he took a small break, I began talking to him. He had been playing his grandmother’s violin for 72 years! He played some tunes I knew and we sang together. It was one of the most amazing afternoons of my life.

• 162 • I want to believe that I can change and be a better person. I don’t want to hear that people never change and history repeats itself, because if that is true then I will never beat this. If that is true then the year of progress I have made means nothing. I want something cheesy in my life. I’m not ready to give in. You CAN change. The world is yours.

• 163 • I’m deciding whether or not to go puke up my food… I hope I don’t.

• 164 • We were told there would be flying cars and silver jumpsuits, cold fusion power for everyone and colonies in the stars. I feel so cheated.

• 165 • Everybody is someone. I’m a big hypocrite. I try real hard to be a good person. Hopefully that makes a difference. If I had guts, I think I would be a lot of things. But some of them are not so good things to be. So, maybe I’ll just stay a scared-y cat with an inferiority complex. I spend a lot of my time wishing I were something else. One of them is an intellectual, another is a dinosaur. I should enjoy who I am, but most of the time, I’m too concerned about what I wish was happening that I displace myself from my own reality. Maybe it’s good for my imagination. I used to wish I were dead a lot. But sometimes I’m so happy I’m alive that I cry.

• 166 • I’ve changed lately… and in a very good way.

This change has to do with my self-confidence and overall perception of myself. I always considered myself to be a very confident person, but below the surface I was constantly doubting myself. And I knew it, too. Then suddenly everything changed. I can’t really pinpoint the exact moment, but I realized that I am an attractive young woman with a great sense of humor and a very easy-going attitude. It just hit me one day. I think that I was doing my makeup, and when I stood back and looked at myself, it was like I was seeing myself clearly for the first time. It was an odd self-awakening. I’m more at ease around guys, I’m more confident in class, and I just have this attitude of “Hey, I can do what I want and it is what it is.” Now I feel like an adult. I feel like a contender in the world. And I don’t know where this is going to take me, but I know that it’s definitely going to affect my life in a positive way. Everything seems new, even things that I’ve been doing for a long time. I’m more excited about mundane, everyday tasks and the like. I’m appreciating beauty in all aspects of life, even those that aren’t so apparent. I’m trying to understand people, and why they do what they do. I’m fascinated by traveling, by foreign things, and by everyday experiences. This entry seems like the inner monologue of a character at the end of the movie. You know, they’re walking down the street/beach/field etc., they’re observing the world around them, and they’re narrating their feelings and their sense of presence in the world. The camera pans out, and shows the world moving around them. A trendy, uplifting song plays, and then the screen fades to black. Roll credits. The only thing is, to me, that I’m not anticipating those credits. This is the beginning of something new and beautiful, and I can’t wait to explore it further.

• 167 • For the past six months I have been lying to my family, friends, and work colleagues about being a in relationship with a woman. At first I made it up to draw attention to myself. But then I told my Dad who is dying on cancer about it. He was so happy. Now I just continue to tell the lie as it makes my Dad happy. I hate lying to him. But I will miss him so much when he passes away. Eventually I will need to “break up” with the imaginary woman. But for now I will keep the lie alive and make my Dad happy.

• 168 • I’ve realized over the past year that I want to be a mom. I have never wanted this before. I grew up saying that I was going to be a powerful, influential, single woman. I was going to change the world through my money and position. But something was missing. Then it came to me one day, where do you find the most happiness? In families. I was tickling my nephew and laughing with him when I got a glimpse of what I might feel if I were to ever have children. It was such an overwhelming feeling, it filled my chest and shot out through my fingertips. I didn’t want to let him go. There is something divine about motherhood that I think the world is forgetting. Something in motherhood that fulfills a woman that nothing else can. There is something about a husband and a wife coming together to make a family that is beautiful and whole. So is it silly of me to be dreaming of getting married to someone I choose to love and having children while the rest of the woman in the world are striving to rule the world?

• 169 • I wear hats for no reason and I do math homework in the bath. I say what occurs to me to say, when it occurs to me to say it and I dance around the kitchen when no one else is at home. I like classical music and cake and talking to strangers and looking at stars and that earthy smell you get after a rainstorm. You don’t know it but I love you very much. My life is happy and people are wonderful.

• 170 • I am 28 years old and single. Most of the time I feel I will never meet anyone. I have gone on dates with nice and good looking men. But, I always find something wrong with them: he walks strange, his job is not good enough, he chews with his mouth open, he wears too much cologne, he has a high pitched voice, he is too nice, he is not chill enough, lives with his parents,

he is not as educated as me, he is shorter than me, he is not funny. So is it my fault? Probably. Am I scared? Maybe. Am I the only one? Who knows. I am a neurotic, emotional, and anxious neat freak who judges people as I judge my own self.

• 171 • I have been living in another country for the past year and now I am back in my home town, everyone keeps asking me if I am happy to be home. I tell them yes while the only think I can think about is how bad I want to go back.

• 172 • I want to make the world a better place. I hear and read all those stories about people giving up on bad habits, fighting for children, homeless people, going to Haiti, Africa, South Asia, to relieve people, to help them. I don’t want to do it that way. This is not for me. I want to make people dream. I want to allow every single soul on this planet to escape reality for a little while, and to let them bathe in happiness. Just for a second. I wish I was God: this is the perfect miracle, the one that could make everyone want to do just a little better after it. I would do it, for sure, if I was that powerful. So I write. I write books, I write stories, with bad realistic beginnings, and happy endings, and I pass them around. I know the world could be so much better. And I know I can make it so. But a miracle would be so much faster than me! And how could I reach every one ? I don’t want some people to be left out. Everyone should have the right, and the opportunity to dream a little. But someday, I will make them all happy. Someday, for sure!

• 173 • When I was very young I would tell people that I was adopted. What does a five/six year old know about adopted? Fifty five years later I still feel a detachment from my family, not necessarily other people though…

• 174 • I recently finished my degree in architecture, saw my father after 11 years, ended a three year relationship with an amazing guy, saw my mom recover from cancer and now I’m falling for my best friend. I’m going to have an amazing life—and so are you.

• 175 • I was the President of my senior class, the president of a Hispanic club, the president of a social change group, year book editor, varsity runner, carried a high G.P.A., and a long list of other leadership positions. I am now going to a community college struggling to pay my tuition every quarter. All because I’m an illegal immigrant in this country. It sucks.

• 176 • I had two girls, both ten years old, tell me that they used Nair and/or shaved their legs every day. TEN! That’s when you build tree houses and make ‘smores, not worry about how silky smooth your legs are! Bad, bad mothers.

• 177 • I’ve been pooped on by birds five times throughout my life. Once while I was young. Another time while sitting in the woods. Twice in one minute even. The last time was in 2007 while I was on vacation. This has to mean something…

• 178 • It may be fucked up, but when the insanity of life catches up to me, it somehow comforts me to know that we’re just specks on a rock in the universe, and in the grand scheme of things, nothing we do matters. It takes off some of the pressure.

• 179 • I have really strong Christian beliefs, but I’ve finally ‘fessed up to liking both men and women. And I can’t do anything about it. I can’t go I’ve decided not to go after what my flesh wants. Ugh, it’s complicated. ‘Tis life.

• 180 • I wish you could open your eyes and see this is what I was meant to do.

• 181 • Whenever I cry, I fold my tissues up into perfect squares and stack them on top of each-other. Then I deposit them very gently into the trash can, no matter how hysterical I am. It’s like an illness. In fact, it is an illness.

• 182 • I have been bulimic for five years. Back home I would often leave the bathroom door open. Still—no one ever noticed. I am not entirely certain I want to stop. I worry for my health, but this way it kind of feels like I can have it all. But one thing you should know is it really isn’t a “weight thing.” When you eat such enormous amounts of food, you concentrate on that. You forget your stresses… for a little while. Then when you purge—your heart races. In the end, you feel relieved—not just like a weight is lifted off you, but it literally is. I don’t get that feeling many other places.

• 183 • One day while at work, my buddy had the radio on. They were playing ‘Rockstar’ by Nickelback. After the song ended, I heard ‘This is How You Remind Me’ by Nickelback. It as ‘Two for Tuesdays’ on the WRIF. That was the worst eight minutes ever.

• 184 • As I was walking down the streets of Santa Cruz alone and miserable, I witnessed a man give some money to a homeless man. Feeling downright lonely and shitty, I thought, hell, why not? So as I walked down, I finally came across an aged man, holding a limp cardboard sign praying for a change. A change of heart. I gave the man a few bills I had in the back pocket into his damp cup. He looked up in his piercing blue eyes and his gritty teeth and sincerely replied “thank you so” and smiled. I walked away with a smile and a lighter heart. Damn, it feels good to give.

• 185 • I want to make a difference in the world. To leave a small, but significant mark in people’s lives. Not everyone, I realize that is impossible, but some people’s. I have started this journey already, my mind is full of faces of people that I have, in fact, helped in one way or another. But I still feel overwhelmed. Like I’m running out of time before I’ve even gotten started. I feel like more people should feel this way… to take the burden off of people like me. Off of me. The world is a beautiful place, filled with amazing people. Each one a gift to the rest of the population. And yet, we tear away at each other. All in all, I just want to say, I believe I will change the world.

• 186 • I am 34 years old, I have severe anxiety, I feel like my world has fallen down around me, I am an artist and I can’t sell anything, I am in a war within myself, I feel like my soul is being ripped into two and I can’t find help, I make barely enough money for my wife and I to get by and that is too much to qualify for state health insurance, so what do I do? Am I damned to this existence until I die?

• 187 • About two months ago I took up smoking. This is something that I never dreamed of doing ever since my dad passed away from compilations due to his cigarette smoking five years ago. But as of lately, it seems to be the only thing that I can do that actually reminds me of him. I miss him terribly. People always told me it gets easier with time, but that is only because with time you forget the really painful memories surrounding the actual death, until all that is left is the void that that person used to fill. So, I took up smoking in order to fill that void that my father left that ended up killing him. Its not the perfect method of grieving, but in a way it gets me closer to him every day, and that’s good enough for me.

• 188 • I skinny dipped in a lake. While working at a Christian camp. With nine other people. IT WAS AWESOME!

• 189 • Sometimes I have amazing dreams. I wake up missing things I never had.

• 190 • I want to be a writer. Not just any writer, but the greatest one that has ever set pen to paper. Even if only one person were to think that I would be satisfied. Even if I was only able to make one person laugh. Even if I was only able to make one person cry. I want to write because there have always been so many stories swirling around in my head. Since I was eight these dramas have been enacting themselves within my skull just waiting to burst forward into reality. I want to write because I want people to look up to me. I want people to look at me and think that if I could go through what I have and be alright then so can they.

• 191 • My mother once during a discussion about religion said that the most important thing to her was knowing her children were “saved.” I haven’t the heart to tell her I’m an atheist.

• 192 • I feel like there is no higher meaning to life. I feel so insignificant. I looked to knowledge for help, to give my life meaning. But the more I learned… the more meaningless my life became. The more insignificant I felt. But I don’t want to be insignificant. I want my life to have meaning, but if I try to find that meaning, I realize there is none. So I just don’t think about it. And I’m happy.

• 193 • One day I was checking my e-mail before breakfast. I found an e-mail from my dad that had a link I’d been meaning to follow for a while. So I followed it, then I followed another link. It took me to a website that had a bunch of stories. I read some. Compared to them, my life seemed insignificant and boring. I found myself wanting to gather up all of the people whose stories were so depressing and had such crappy lives. I would take them to my house and make them all a big breakfast. Then, I would tell all of them, “Thank you for trusting your stories to complete strangers. It will get better. You just need to keep hanging in there.” But I can’t do that because the website is anonymous. So instead I’ll write about doing that in the hopes that this will get to all of those people. I think that, maybe, I’ve found what I want to do when I grow up.

• 194 • I am 55 years old and I have rheumatoid arthritis. I traveled a lot and was very active. Now, some days, I can barely get out of bed. I’m scared.

• 195 • You know what? I’m pretty damn happy right now, and I wish more people would be too. Yeah, there’s shit going on everywhere and it’s hard to live happily right now, but only if you don’t try! Do something. Go for a walk, play a game with your kids, sing in the shower. Think about how great it all is! You’re here, you’re living, and isn’t that something? I understand that everyone has their bad days. I do too, believe me. But if you can’t get past the fact that it happens and we just have to endure them, then you’ll always feel like that. Many people I talk to these days seem to see the world in a shade of grey. I want them, you, and everyone else to see the brilliant colors of life! Just try it. Look around. See how beautiful the trees are, or how interesting the designs in your house are? Listen to the brilliance that is the harmonies of your world. Smile. Just smile. Don’t think you can? Go on, try it. I know you can. Everyone can, and everyone should. Because maybe, just maybe, if everyone smiled more often, the world wouldn’t seem so harsh and cold.

• 196 • Five years ago my husband died, right there in my arms. The cancer had won, his lungs had filled with pneumonia. I listened to his last breath, then his fingers turned blue, his eyes fluttered and then he was gone. I’ve been looking for him ever since.

• 197 • I was sure I was in love with him on our second date. Now I wonder why he chooses sleep over sex.

• 198 • We were foster parents and were mislead by the foster agency that we would be able to adopt our own little foster son. “There are no suitable relatives” is what we were told. Then they changed their mind and sent him to his Aunt. For quite awhile we thought we’d never see him again. I didn’t care if I lived or died.

She called after a year and said the adoption was final and asked if we wanted to see him. She had changed his name. That was three years ago. We go get him for a day or two each week. So he lives the life of a middle class kid during that time. The rest of the time our little boy lives in a slum. There are burned out and abandoned houses on his block and a crack house across the street. I am a psych nurse and can tell you that his aunt is mentally ill. She hits him with a belt and rarely leaves the house with him. People tell me “how fortunate that you’ve been able to continue contact with him.” Part of me agrees with them. And another (big) part of me want to SCREAM at them “how fortunate would you feel if this had happened to your child?” At any time she could say it’s not working out to continue contact. I live with this every day.

• 199 • I don’t think I’ll ever get past the things I have faced in life. Yes, surely I will accept them and learn to live with my experiences, losses, and fears, but honestly, I will always have them in my mind. Before I fall asleep my mind will be flooded with the memories. I don’t know why I don’t have the courage to confront these things and people in my life, but maybe writing it here will help. You see, I was never much for journaling. I am 17 years old and have already given up funerals. After attending so many it’s hard to keep going. But because of this, death no longer frightens me. I am 17 years old and on September 28, 2009 my daughter died. I was three months along and in denial. Now that she is gone I cannot express my pain for fear of being sent away… again. I have spent close to three months in various hospitals and have developed a complete distrust of people and doctors, but I trust pens and paper.

• 200 • Your life changes when you walk into a room and see your mother dead on the floor. You break down right there and pound on the floor hoping it’ll break and drop you into the depths of Hell, because anywhere is better then that upstairs room that reeks of death. I’m now a 13 almost 14 year old girl who is mom-less. I live with my father who has been an absolute stranger to me for the past two years… Ever since mom died. My brother is 16. My mom died of a Pulmonary Embolism. AKA: Drugs. She had neck surgery when I was about seven years old. She got addicted to the pain killers that were given to her as medicine. I remember I would ask, “Mommy what are those?” She’d raise the orange bottle and I could hear them rattling inside, “These? These are my vitamins sweet heart…” She was also diagnosed with liver cancer from her best friend, Virginia Slims. I’m living in my teenage world where drugs are supposed to be new and spontaneous… Exhilarating. Too bad they killed my mom. My father went through a phase I think. Every night he’d sit in the living room with a glass filled to the rim with whiskey. As I’d sneak past him… I’d hear him talking to my mother. As if she was actually sitting next to him. Some nights he’d drag me out of bed. I remember the worst. He stood me in the living room and screamed at me about my attitude. A typical teenage attitude… Add a dead mother and you have me. I sat there hiding my emotions behind my teeth. I bled that night. I bruised. But maybe it was my fault. My dad is now dating a lady from New York. They’re planning on getting married this Christmas. At night when he talks to me, I don’t smell the whiskey on his breath as much. But still, he is a stranger. And I am a stranger. A stranger who lives in the upstairs room of his house. Thank you.

• 201 • I have depression. She doesn’t believe in medication. I self-medicate. With weed. She found out and started testing me. I can’t blame her. I whined enough for it to be a wake-up call and she promised to find me help. 7 months later, she hasn’t budged. I’ve become rebellious. More weed. Sex. Cigarettes. The usual. We fought about this. A big fight. More than I could handle. I was sobbing in my room while she recited to me every way I have hurt her, let her down, messed up her life. And I laughed. Because I have given up on respecting her. She finally left the room. I didn’t cry. I dug through my drawer for the razor. I’m not worrying about the mess this time. I won’t have to worry about anything ever again. I hope you’re happy, mom. But I changed my mind. I traced the symbol for infinity into the fleshy part of the palm of my hand and rubbed ink into it. It bled. And I got my fix. And I fell asleep. The next morning I woke up and saw my latest screw-up pasted to my body. In plain view. Forever. It’s ironic; Infinity.

• 202 • It annoys me that every time I say anything involving the fact that I never want to get married or give birth to kids or have sex, people reply with “Oh, you’ll change your mind.” I’m sorry, but no. No, I really won’t. I’ve had this decided for most of my life, and it’s not going to change. They don’t understand that I really can’t take being that intimate with someone. I mean, I have friends that I’m close to. That’s about as far as it goes. I mean, do people really not understand that I’m asexual and I really don’t like physical contact with anyone that’s not a close friend or family member? Now, on the topic of kids. I don’t get why people are so adamant on giving birth to your own flesh and blood. Personally, the world’s getting overpopulated

as it is, so why the hell would I make it worse? Rather than having to give birth to something, and have some doctor I hardly know touch me in places I’d rather not be touched ever, I think I’ll settle with adopting. I mean, sure, the kid wouldn’t be blood related to me, but I’d still the love the kid as my own. And I’m very certain my own parents would love him/her as their own grandchild, too. My parents are awesome like that. I understand that my asexual, introverted-ness will cause me to probably be alone for most of my life. Is it so bad to be perfectly fine with that? If it is, well, I don’t really care.

• 203 • It started out with a simple hello. He recommended a song, and I went back to my dorm to listen to it. Eventually we started walking home from work. One day I saw him walking to the library on campus. He asked me for my number. On several occasions, he would ask me to study. This struck me as strange, because we did not have any classes together. This made me suspect that he liked me. I would spend many nights on the internet telling my friends about this person. They all agreed that he appeared to be interested. One weekend a friend from high school came up to visit. This boy, my friend, and I were going to hang out. This boy and I decided to give my friend a late night tour of the university. We frolicked through the autumn leaves, broke out into rapturous song and dance, and eventually ended up sitting on a heat vent discussing serious things. We threw around our thoughts and feelings on religion and sexuality. Finally, he confessed that he was gay. My heart sunk inside. I still hold these feelings for him. I don’t want to. In my head, I’m pathetic. I have never been in a relationship before, and I think that I never will.

• 204 • I’ve been with my boyfriend for years now, we’ve broken up several times, and it always feels as if it’s only a matter of time before it happens again. I met someone three months ago, and we started hanging out and having sex several times. He has a girlfriend, and explained to me at one point that he

was thinking about breaking up with her. For whatever reason I thought this whole thing with him was something completely different then he did, he stopped talking to me three days ago and it feels like I’m going crazy. I know it’s because I’ve never been rejected by anyone I’ve had strong feelings for, and now it’s as if I’m just wanting that satisfaction of knowing he wants ME… because when I sit and think about it, he’s not even that great… he’s actually a piece of shit, but so am I.

• 205 • I am known to be outspoken, but when it comes to facts about myself, I tend to be very private. I am 21 years old and I have only kissed one guy and still a virgin. Hearing my friends constantly talk about sex and me not saying anything makes me uncomfortable because I feel as though I am not desired like my friends are to others. I tend to keep quiet and tend to act like I am not listening or paying attention when we are in a crowd. None of my friends know my secret, not even my best friend and I have lied to everyone because I am embarrassed. I want to enjoy my last year in college and have fun and for once feel attractive and desired. I fear of being alone forever in the future.

• 206 • Come closer for a secret. I was raped once. Then I had sex with people while highly intoxicated just to have control over making that decision for myself, instead of them making it for me. Now, I’m trying to be a good woman and a good person. I hate myself for the decisions I made when I was young and drunk.

• 207 • I’ve been cutting myself for five years. I am only 18, so it’s all I’ve ever really known. Since I’ve been developing real emotions and gone through more adult situations, it’s the only coping mechanism I’ve ever really known. Well… that, and music. I am addicted. I can say that without a problem now, and

I’m glad I can. Because now that I notice I have these chains on me, I can work to become liberated from them. One thing that helps me is God. I have a very personal relationship with Him, but I fear that everyone looks at me as a hypocrite because I am also gay. I go to a Christian college, and none of the people who know about my sexuality have turned away, yet my mother told me to think about going to a different school if I really am gay… because she refuses to let my grandfather pay for the high tuition if I am not getting anything from it. My step father feels the same way. The longest conversation we have had in the past five years was about 20 minutes of him yelling at me and telling me that I can’t love Jesus and be gay. Yes, a lot of hurt comes from my family. I have been cutting for five years, and me and my step father haven’t talked in five years. That is not a coincidence. I have let their words become a truth in my mind, and it has been holding me back from my dreams ever since. Lately I haven’t known what to do with my life, and with other certain things going on, I’ve just been digging this hole for myself, and it’s been hell. But I am starting to see the light. I am starting to get answers. I am beginning to feel love again. I am ready to get better.

• 208 • I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m only 17 years old, and my life is quite fucked up really. You see, I used to be this innocent little thing. I was against drugs, sex, alcohol, all that. I studied hard even when I was young, because I was a perfectionist and wanted to make myself perfect and never let myself or my family down. I volunteered. I helped the homeless. I visited my grandparents every day. Now, I drink, I back-talk, wear revealing clothing, come home late, lie, steal… basically, I do every single little fucking thing that my old self would have hated. It’s not intentional really. I wish I could change into my old self. God, I’d give anything for that. But the thing is, I can’t without admitting something really dreadful to my parents. I hate myself, whoever that may be now.

• 209 • I’m in my mid-thirties and married. Last year I had sex with a married friend. My spouse and her spouse knew about it before hand so there was no deception. Since then my friends marriage has fallen apart. Although her and her husband have assured me it had nothing to do with us having sex I still feel guilty.

• 210 • So what am I doing with my life besides wasting away? 19 year old drop out with a son. Not what I was expecting my life to turn into. I used to be a straight A student with amazing potential. How I lost it all is beyond me. Maybe I shouldn’t have started drinking. Maybe I shouldn’t have started experimenting with drugs. Maybe I should’ve waited until marriage to open up my legs. Damn, I mean I never thought I’d end up pregnant to the first person I ever had sex with (a person nine years my senior). I can’t believe that people who don’t know me see me as a young dumb slut. It hurts so bad because I know the truth. My life is hard. I’m not a bad person . I’m actually quite intelligent. I feel like it shouldn’t be this way. I feel like I’ve been somehow shorted. I’m so young and I feel stuck in a life that I don’t want to be living. I want someone to come rescue me from all of this but I know its not possible. I know I’m stuck for good. I’m tired of being alone with these thoughts. Ugh, at least death is inevitable. Just gotta wait my turn.

• 211 • I am 19 years old. I live at home with my parents. My father is cheating on my mother and this house is getting unbearable because we all know it and their constant drinking and yelling is not helping. I moved away two years ago to go to college in San Antonio and then I moved back home to be with a guy who broke up with me because he didn’t love me anymore. He said my anxiety disorder and my frequent crying was too much to deal with. Of course I was going to cry, he was cheating on me. And the real reason he broke up with me was to have sex with random girls at raves, do drugs and party it up.

While he is doing that I have two jobs and I’m a full time student with little to no social life. I would really like a boyfriend. At this point though I’m not sure if I believe in love or not, but not believing helps me sleep better at night.

• 212 • I am a 22 year old sex addict. I decided when I was 15 that I wanted to wait to do “the deed” until I met someone that I actually cared about. After years of high school heckling and countless “Virgin Mary” references my first few years of college, I finally found a man that I absolutely adored. It was the best night of my life; I was 21 years old. I didn’t just let this man inside of me, I let him into my heart. A few days later, he broke it off, explaining that “You’re just not what I want in a woman.” My self-esteem took a major hit. Soon after, I started partying more and more. I began using my body as my defense mechanism. Sleeping with every man that seemed to get a hard-on when I’d touch his arm. From bathroom sex at parties to seducing coworkers to a hotel room during our lunch break. I decided that instead of allowing a man to use me, I’ll use him first! I’m always left feeling empty, but at least I can’t get hurt.

• 213 • About a week ago I was at a bus stop. I was sitting there for about 10 minutes when a man came and sat next to me. He looked about the same age. We were silent for a few minutes, when he started a conversation. Little did I know, this was one of the best conversations I’ve ever had. We talked about everything—life, friends, family, childhood, sex, music interests, everything. It lasted about an hour. We both did not even realize we missed the bus until his phone rang. We were so caught up in each other. I didn’t even know his name, didn’t get his number… Anything. I went home and cried. That man at the bus stop changed my life. After an hour. Sounds crazy, yeah. I still think about our conversation… He made my day. More like made my life…

• 214 • I’m currently turning sixteen in ten days. I have never been kissed, been on a date, been close to a boy, or anything like that. I know the older people in the world will read this and say oh that’s not too big of a deal but it is to me, right now. Isn’t that big enough? Well anyways not to be cocky, I know I’m not ugly. I am actually pretty normal and have had guys like me. I don’t know, maybe I’m just scared of taking the next step in my life, getting close to the opposite sex. When I turned fifteen last year I made a promise to myself that I would kiss someone before my sixteenth birthday and I don’t think that will happen. Maybe my seventeenth…

• 215 • I love projects like this. Projects that show how intertwined and connected people are. I have this belief that we are all connected. I mean, we are all human. I am judged a lot because of my sexual orientation and since I have a minor disability. A lot of times, I will wear a mask, hiding how affected I am by the way people look at me and judge me. Last Friday, a girl from my school came up to me and explained that a big group of girls in my school laugh at me all of the time. At first, they didn’t affect me, but then I felt my anger boiling over. Why do they laugh at me? They don’t even know my name! All they know is that I am in the GSA (Gay Straight Alliance). This is all they need to mock me. Why do people always make fun of the minorities? Is it because that way they can mock in majorities? People seem to thrive off of feeling superior to others. They also seem to stereotype. People stereotype, whether they want to or not. It is just human nature. I wish I could be blind of all stereotypes. I wish I could be as naïve and innocent as a child. That way, I wouldn’t know how to judge anybody.

• 216 • As far as I can remember I have wanted to make others happy, sometimes to a fault. I had a love I couldn’t quite share as intensely or as often as I wanted. I was told I was too serious as a child… that too many things mattered too much to me. (Which amuses me because I was also the class clown… at first.) Moving often, and having to start over time and time again I struggled to find deep connections. I started to feel more removed from myself. Maybe that’s what led me to cling to any shred of attention or affection I could find. A friend once referred to the collection of events in my life as a never ending police report that was just too much to digest. (Multiple rapes, including a drug induced rape by three friends of mine, etc.) She seemed to feel that my physical beauty (which only others seem to see) was at the root of some of these issues. I was overly sexualized at an early age and never recovered. Also, in turn I tended to only find value in myself if I was wanted sexually. Nothing I’ve ever turned to could fill this empty space or distract me from the pain: sex, S&M, drugs (legal and illegal), cutting, self help books, or talking to other people. Even without dwelling every day, I feel so beyond the transformation I desperately need. Sometimes the desire I have to end this life, let go of the baggage I carry is just too overwhelming. How do you learn what love and trust are really supposed to be after such experiences? How do you know what a relationship or sex are supposed to be when your first experiences were forced? I haven’t found the answer in any book. It is one thing to acknowledge that there are some things that you cannot ever make sense of and you need to let go. It is quite another to feel like you need to be re-raised and nurtured… with no safe place to do so. It breaks my heart that so many people carry similar pain and feel alone but cannot stop the cycles… and connect more. I live for little details… But in every little thing can lie a million emotional triggers. If only I could just pour myself a cup of tea and forget it all…

• 217 • I’m 20 years old and I’ve never had sex. I’ve never had a serious boyfriend. I’ve never been in love. Every day I spend at least five minutes trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. I tell people that I’m happy. I’m young and I’m in college and I don’t need a man in my life right now. I don’t want anyone to tie me down but that’s just a lie told purely for self-preservation purposes. I’m a hopeless romantic and believe that one day I will find my soul mate and we will be together forever raising beautiful children in a home that we created together and it will be WONDERFUL. Because that’s not likely I’ve decided to sign up for a dating site when I graduate college and know that if I’m not married with children but the age of 38 I will either visit a sperm bank or adopt a child. My only goal in life is to be a mother because I want someone to love me as much as I love my own mother. I’m selfish.

• 218 • I’m a bisexual. I’m dating someone four years and five months older than me. I love her with all my heart and soul, but if my parents were to find out what I am, they’d disown me. Neither of them accept gays/bisexuals/ lesbians, and it hurts me. She’s my everything, and I honestly can’t imagine life without her by my side.

• 219 • I will be 21 years old this year and I’m still a virgin. I have never had a boyfriend and decided I wanted to wait until it was someone I cared about. I got close to a boyfriend this summer, but he turned out to be a huge douchebag, the only thing he wanted was sex. I think I will be looking forever trying to find a man who is interested in something besides sex. It’s not like I won’t ever have sex, but I’m just waiting for someone who I care about, who cares about me.

• 220 • When I was thirteen I met the love of my life. He was dorky, loved the Seattle Seahawks, had braces with a smile that could kill, and played amateur James Taylor songs on acoustic guitar. I thought he was the cat’s pajamas. Then, we weren’t so much alike, but for some reason we just clicked. We dated once in the eighth grade. We made out in a movie theatre while watching Dodgeball. We broke up because we were too young, and he lived in the suburbs, while I lived in the city. As we got older, our tastes grew much more similar and we ended up being really good friends. He also lives about eight blocks away from me, now. There’s a catch, though. We slept together. We slept together quite a bit. Not when we were thirteen, but six and half years later. Over a span of months we slept together. In fact, you could say that we’re currently “sleeping together.” Not right this moment, but I could definitely call him up right now and arrange it. All this sleeping together has gotten us nowhere except for naked and sweaty and late and tired and confused and at least moderately satiated (or else, why would we bother?). And is that worth it? There’s the rub. We’re not “together-together” if you haven’t figured that out. Not Facebook official. Not even dating, actually. Now he’s a young man and we’re both in college. He’s tall and dark and bulked up and his braces are gone and his smile is flawless and his voice is deep and mesmerizing. It’s not even about the sex with him, even though that is an enjoyable part. It’s about talking with him afterwards, breaking down his walls, having him introduce me to excellent music, bullshitting about whatever. And waking up cuddling isn’t so bad. By being committed to being uncommitted, we’ve found ourselves in a paradox. We’re the most committed uncommitted I’ve ever seen, and doesn’t that count for something?

• 221 • I’m 21 years old and I’ve never had a boyfriend. I am funny, charming, smart, and have a pretty face… but I am overweight, and I always have been. I don’t have unsightly fat rolls or anything, but I do have very large hips, legs, arms,

and an unnaturally huge ass. I’ve been dieting and working out for as long as I can remember, but to no avail. I fear that sooner or later, I’ll have to just accept that this is how I am… but as of now, I just can’t. I hate everything about my body, and no one understands, because none of my friends or family are overweight. Guys never want to date me… they only want to have sex with me, in secret. I do my best to stay positive but at night, when I’m laying in bed alone, I can’t help but wonder, ‘Why me? Why was I born like this, when my best friends were born perfect and beautiful? Why aren’t there any good men out there that will see me for who I am inside, instead of the size of my body? When is it going to be MY turn to be happy?’ No one knows how depressed and lonely I truly am, and I hate that I can’t talk to anyone about it. The few times I’ve tried, all anyone has to say is, “Be patient, you’ll find someone when you least expect it.” Thanks for trying, but that is honestly the last thing I want to hear. I’m very quickly losing faith.

• 222 • I’m 20 years old and think about suicide every day. Growing up with years of molestation in a home full of hate took its toll. I can’t remember a time before I was sexually abused and hit by my family. I’ve been through foster care, hospital visits, rape, and have had a gun pointed at me. I used to think everything that happened to me just made me a stronger person, so I picked up my stuff moved half way across the country as soon as I was 18. No matter how hard I try I can’t make myself accept my past, and everything has been getting worse. I can’t keep a good relationship going because the thought of starting a family with my issues terrifies me. How can I be a mother if in ten years I have a weak moment and pull the trigger? I feel like I’m losing my strength to smile and see beauty in the world. I’m getting tired. It keeps me from getting close to anyone. So I am alone, in silent pain, like I always was and always will be. The worst part is, no one knows. I was voted most outgoing in high school, when every day I went home and would cry and cut my wrists in my room. I want the world to stop and see people deeper than their smiles, and see the aching most of us have in our hearts.

• 223 • A year after the first guy I ever loved broke up, we started sleeping together again. One reason I let myself was because I missed him, the other reason was because I hated him for how he left me and it became the cliched revenge sex. After a month of sleeping together, I started to get sick. After a couple hospital visits and the worse two weeks of my life, it turned out I was having an outbreak, it turned out I had herpes. I stopped sleeping with him and I never told him why. Its been about two years since then and I’ve accepted that I have to live with this life-long condition but to this day I won’t let myself think that it was him who gave it to me… because if it was I would never be able to forgive him and it scares me because I think I still love him. I guess its true what they say, love is blind.

• 224 • I’m nineteen years old and two and a half years ago I met the love of my life at my church camp. The thing is, when I met her I didn’t know it. We became so close so fast and one thing led to another, we fell in love. She’s the first girl I did anything sexual with, and I was the first person she’s ever done anything with. She’s two years younger than I am, still in high school and I’m in my second year of college. She makes me so happy, the only thing is we aren’t allowed to see or talk to each other. Our parents won’t let us be together, our church won’t let us be together, no one is on our side except for us. We secretly talk every day and we see each other as often as we can. She doesn’t live close though. I’m pretty sure I will never love someone the way I love this girl. I feel I will never be fully happy until I can be with her. I smoke a lot of weed because I believe it makes this hurt less, and I just recently accepted the fact that I’m a girl in love with another girl.

• 225 • Here’s the real point about love: you can never define it. It’s either all abstractions, or specifics—the latter are most likely only applicable to the couple making the specifics. My specifics are: he gave up smoking for me. He gives me surprises. After a life time of saying “my only instrument is my voice,” he is teaching me how to play bass. I am a bisexual girl who loves only him, overcoming an addiction to porn. Some days I do well. Others, not. I gave up nude modeling for him. I give up sleep for him, so my voice can be the last thing he hears. I discovered how to write a love poem so he could smile. And though these are only my specifics, they might make someone else smile, too. But generally, love is giving something you wouldn’t give up for anyone else… and not thinking twice about it.

• 226 • Five months ago I started dating a good friend to legitimize having sex with him. I don’t love him but feel too bad to break up with him because he loves me. You know that type of “the-first-real-girlfriend-I’ve-ever-had and-nowI-don’t-know-how-to-live-without-you” love. I guess I’ve got that “I-wouldnever-want-to-hurt-you-friend” love for him, but I keep doing it anyways. He begged and I gave in, now I’m having a love affair, you know the kind of “we-connect-on-many-levels-not-just-sex” thing with someone else and this guy doesn’t live three hours away. We’ll see how long this lasts. I’m going up north with a guy who should know it’s over, let’s just hope I don’t get drunk and blow it in front of all of his friends.

• 227 • I’m very seriously afraid that I am turning into my mother. I avoid binge drinking—or heavy drinking of any kind because I know I have an addictive personality and my mom is an alcoholic. Though studies have implied that sexual orientation may be a genetically inherited trait, I identify as a straight

female but my mother is bi. I am not, nor have I ever been attracted to any sort of fiber artistry; my mother used to be known as Spiderwoman per her exceptional skills with turning fresh sheared wool into a multicolored sweater and hand processing every step of the endeavor. But it’s not becoming a lesbian who knits her own beer cozies that is weighing on my mind. It’s the fact that, just recently (like earlier today), I’m pretty sure in addition to her nose, my mom gave me a handful of the grab bag of mental disorders she possesses. Serious anxiety issues, to be specific. I am fully aware that substance abuse since the age of thirteen may have antagonized her problems to a degree I vow to never achieve, though when I bawled for a good two hours this afternoon, I truly shudder at my “full potential.” I have a solid job in this 2009 Michigan economy, a family that loves me dearly, a best friend who is most accurately described by that Aristotle quote (something like): “a true friend is one soul inhabiting two bodies,” and a boyfriend who I’m pretty sure I have fallen in love for real with (don’t tell him yet, I don’t want to jinx anything). But lately I’ve been wrecked with the kind of troubles and grief that remain inexplicable by any outside variables which only leaves me and my insides. My insides which are a combination of my mother and my father. My dad is damn sane. It’s gotta be the maternal factor. This possible decent into madness terrifies me to the max. I feel strange and somehow hypocritical about seeking medication—I just want to break it down and work it out myself. Hypocritical in the sense that medicine and all studies related, I feel, are going too far and Darwin must be spinning in his grave and I have a brilliant idea about a comic where he comes back (not in a zombie way) and, well, maybe you’ll read it some day. ANYWAY, I think I’m running out of steam. I guess I just needed to get some shit off my chest.

• 228 • I’m Caitlin. I’m 16, a lesbian, a transexual woman (MtF), radically left, radically queer, a writer, musician, and a lot of things which I could claim weird ‘cred for. All the same, I’m just a kid. My puberty was prolonged and terrible, but I live a boring, upper middle class, Ann Arbor, white life. I get along with my parents, I try to get a girlfriend and all that growing up shit. I am boring and that is a victory for all the girls like me that haven’t had that option.

• 229 • My friend is dying due to an addiction to heroin, cocaine, pills, syrups, basically anything he can take to get fucked up. We dated for five months, then I finally left him thinking he was using me for sex. He wasn’t. But he isn’t this way because of me—it was the girl before me. I can’t decide what’s worse, the fact that my friend is going to die and there’s nothing I can do, or that I’m jealous that I’m not the cause.

• 230 • This past summer I was fucking my boss. He is ten years older than me, engaged, and expecting twins (any day now). I would be so excited whenever he would call, hoping our rendezvous would yield an orgasm and a moment of whimsy, neither of which ever appeared. I am now 45 miles and forever away from him. I don’t miss the sex, or the disappointment, but I think I will always be waiting for the perfect encounter. He taught me the meaning of casual sex, the fickle nature of devotion, and the art of walking away with your head held high. He called two days ago and asked me to dinner. His children are due in three days. He told me he loves me.

• 231 • I want so much out of the next few years to graduate college this May and have anywhere to go from there. I want to be everywhere doing everything and never disappoint anyone I wanted to avoid writing about it, but nothing else in my life is quite so significant and life altering. I miss being innocent and naive. I miss the optimism and utter lack of understanding for hatred that I had ‘till I was seventeen. Rape is an awful word. It’s a terrible feeling; It changes you and follows you around so closely that four ½ years later you can wake up from a random nightmare and struggle to look your boyfriend in the face because you just dreamt of such an awfully horrible thing being done to your body. I guess that’s the worst part about it—the fact that it’s never far from your thoughts. My family has suffered so much sexual abuse it’s unbelievable. I could be OK if it was just me. I can eventually come to understand the guy

who decided to take what he wanted from me, even though he knew I didn’t want to give it. This is all so jumbled—I get like that sometimes when I ramble. I was two days away from my 17th birthday, in the basement of a friend’s house—watching a movie. We had been semi-friends for years. When he tried moving my hand where it didn’t belong I just pulled away. When he tugged my pants down I tried to pull them up but I wasn’t as strong. I didn’t scream. I didn’t fight. I just cried real quiet. I didn’t think that’s who I was. I thought I was stronger. My best friend was only 13 when it happened to her. She’d gotten separated from her friends and was found by a middle-aged horny as fuck wasted asshole who attacked her. She fought back and screamed and was choked nearly to death by him. She didn’t tell anyone for years. She wishes she didn’t fight back because she tried and failed and almost died. You can’t win. She’s my baby sister. I was raised on Disney Princesses and ‘Leave it to Beaver.’ My parents are straight out of Pleasantville—very even tempered, very much in love; Everything that went wrong could be solved by brownies. I love the world. I love people. I love being introduced to new things and dreaming about the future. But sometimes I’m alone in my car and I think about my sister, or me, or my Grandma who’s addicted to pain pills, and sleeps all day (scares the shit out of me because she was raped by her brother—I don’t want to turn out like that when I’m old) and my knuckles go white on the wheel and my stomach clenches and I know that I am capable of violence. I miss being innocent and naive.

• 232 • When I was six, my best friend taught me how to have sex. She would take my hand and lead me to her bed before school every day. I thought it was fun and normal for girls our age. I started playing “boyfriend-girlfriend” with my other friends. I started telling people about the game. It led to a trial, then expulsion from Catholic school. It wasn’t until I was ten and I was old enough

to understand, that I decided I had been “molested.” For years I harbored feelings of guilt, blame, and hatred towards the girl who had robbed me of my innocence, and even against the other girls who let me do the same to them. Now, as an 18 year old bisexual, I know that my friend, myself, and my curious experimentations are innocent, and that though for years I had considered myself a victim, as well as a perpetrator, I was only a young girl, having what I thought to be a damned good time.

• 233 • I’ve recently come up with the term “psychological hermaphrodite.” I don’t know if it’s actually been recorded under some other name, but I like psychological hermaphrodite. I feel completely comfortable being a man or a woman. I actually prefer being a man despite being biologically female. But I have a tendency to lean towards dating straight men, so I generally live as a woman. I’m bisexual and am more attracted to the female body, but also more attracted to the male personality and much prefer hetero sex. I’ve loved two men and one woman (all of whom are completely straight, but they all loved me back). I have my hair cut short so I can change it up. Some days I wear make up and tight pants. Other days I wash it all off and wear loose clothing, and I feel COMPLETELY myself either way. Is that weird? Because it doesn’t feel weird to me.

• 234 • I had a pretty rocky adolescence, mostly self inflicted. I found out why I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror while my brother was on trial for something he didn’t do. Nobody ever thought they needed to talk to me about what my uncle did to me when I was two. I could never understand why I would have this nightmare over and over. Then my dad said it in the court room, out loud, for everyone to hear… “molested.” Knowing didn’t change anything, nobody talked to me about it. Years later I told my parents what my brothers did to me. My father dismissed it, childhood exploration. He beat them when I was younger because my Aunt told him what I said to her, but now as an adult it was dismissed. I tried for years to look at myself in the mirror, but I could only look at the pimple, a hair, my eye brow, my hair, never ever the whole.

My image of myself was terrible. Broken, used, ugly, unwanted; then I met my husband. It changed my world, but until the wedding day I never thought he would go through with marrying me. Who could after what other men have done to me? Then I never thought we could have our own children, I was broken, how could an amazing thing like that happen in such a disgusting vessel as MY body? Then I got pregnant. I wanted to do everything I could to make sure the baby was healthy, and I wanted to have it in a birth center so everything would be perfect. I wanted a girl so she could have a childhood without abuse. We found out it was twins days before I had them. I had two boys, of course. I was scared, I have been scared, what if I have a girl next time, and “childhood exploration” happens to her? I am trying to tell myself there are all kinds of big brothers who never need their sister to “explore” anything. These boys can be different, I will stay home, they won’t have idle time when they can get themselves in trouble, I will talk to them about sex and anatomy so there are no unanswered questions. My husband helps me fight this battle in my mind. He is one of those “other kinds” of big brother. He protected his sister, and never “explored” anything. He tells me I’m a good mom and nothing will happen. It has been hard to look in the mirror still, I feel like I have let my future daughter down by having two boys. But I love my boys, they are my world. Driving yesterday, my husband turned to me and said “I feel guilty loving my life so much…” I feel guilty not loving my life enough… but this morning I woke up and looked at myself in the mirror… really looked, I think I may have been missing out the past 20 some years by not looking. Hopefully I can look at myself the rest of my life and know, I have it good, and I am doing my best.

• 235 • I feel like giving up. Too many signs are coming my way. I say less. I see nothing good for me. Rough patches become more and more permanent. Sorry Mom, Dad, Sister.

• 236 • It seems everyone my age lives for relationships and sex. When I tell people that I haven’t dated they think something is wrong with me because honestly I’m not ugly and I have a pretty good personality but I just don’t think wasting your emotions and time with someone when your my age (18) is smart, cause most people I talk to regret dating or spending so much time with a guy that breaks your heart or turns out to be a jerk. What’s my point? My point is I am saving my virginity for that one night after my wedding, I am saving all my feelings for one man… so I have more to give.

• 237 • I’m a gay woman attending a private Christian university and that definitely contributes to a lot of the drama/rising action in my life. But the thing I’ve done that I’m most ashamed of happened yesterday. Last night. I, in a fit of depression and self-shame, met a football player in the parking lot of an apartment building nearby. He was a friendly stranger, bulky and soft-spoken with wonderful skin. He was just visiting, his hosts were gone, did I want to come upstairs? I said yes. Went into his apartment. We sat there for a few hours talking and half-watching T.V., rather awkwardly situated on the couch. Mind you, this is two am. He asked me to stay over. I said, why not? He offered me the extra bedroom and went into his own bedroom. I didn’t bring pajamas, a toothbrush… I mean, it was all VERY sudden. But I just lay there in this bed and he’s in the other room and I wondered, just for a second, what the FUCK I was doing there. No matter. I knocked on HIS bedroom door, invited him into the guest room and asked him to strip. Then asked him to pull his pants down. And then asked him to get a condom. I never have done anything with a guy before. Never wanted to. He (and he only knew me for three hours) was absolutely surprised at my actions. Happy. But surprised. I was sure that this made me, even for just a blessed moment, more of a straight girl and therefore, a Christian, then I’d ever been before.

Never realized how skewed a definition I had for my relationship with Christ and religion and myself. When we were done, I pulled on my jeans and stood up and felt… AWFUL. I told him I wasn’t staying and he stood there, absolutely handsome and half naked with a perfect body, and thanked me for coming by. I drove back to my dorm crying. So. I’m gay and I love Jesus. And since those things, in my mind, don’t go together, I just had extramarital sex to feel closer to my religion. I’m not sure what’s right anymore.

• 238 • I had to return the book. I bought it so I would have something to read while I was eating my dinner at the restaurant… I didn’t want to be alone. Reading it, I realized I couldn’t do it. My stomach felt funny, and I was going to cry. The story was about a little girl, one who is used for sex. She relies on her pet turtle to get through it. She’s tough. I’m not. I can’t read the book, it makes me sick. I felt like it was me, I was the little girl with the tough exterior but I knew I wasn’t like that on the inside. The same thing happened to me, and I thought I could read about it. I’ve read newspaper articles, talked about it in class, but I couldn’t read about it when there were emotions attached. When the little girls story was me. So, I returned the book. Pretended it never happened. If she can be tough, I can be too, right?

• 239 • I just moved in with the love of my life three months ago after four years of dating. Two months ago I started fooling around with a coworker because he told me he thought I was beautiful. Years of therapy and prescription mood stabilizers, a great man by my side, and I still feel like the ugly and introverted bulimic I was in high school.

I don’t want to have sex with the man I’ve been “fooling around with” but I feel like whenever any man gives me any bit of attention I have to do whatever I can for this person for making me feel so good about myself. I just wish that I had enough self worth to tell him it has to stop. I wish I didn’t need the attention. I wish he would stop pulling me into the bathroom at work to feel me up. And I wish I wouldn’t let him. I wish he would listen when I told him it had to stop. And I wish I wanted it to.

• 240 • I dream, above all, to out myself to my family. It’s horrific realizing in doing so I’ll be completely illegitimate and rumored by people who I share the thickest blood. Yes, I know they’ll still love me, but they will not respect me; their faith, in my life and afterlife, will dim behind their hurting eyes. Though it’s a big pill to swallow, I’ve done it, it’s carrying the weight to stay around that irks me. Holding burdens hardens you, makes you bitter. I don’t need that. I define my masculinity—the core ingredient for men in the US, so it’s said—as the capacity to suffer. I have been through so very much and stand tall: my parents fall from HIV, graduating cum laude, breakups, job-hunting. I have overcome so much, and demand respect (a prerequisite for true love, at least to me). Attitudes toward gay turned my sexuality to a shameful burden. And like all heavy burdens, we often, and quite irrationally, let them fester at the bottom of our priority list. When the ground’s swept from beneath you, that’s when you truly learn how to stand. I’m not looking for accolades just genuine consideration from my family. I can’t imagine bringing home a future partner and sitting beside him under the humble facade hiding my family’s denaturing gaze. I rationalize about going to the west coast. Surround myself by gays I hardly relate to in order to escape. But then again, I think running away is a characteristic that makes you a faggot more than man with man. I just want to live my life, no paparazzi!

• 241 • As a freshman in college I became involved with an older man who went on to stalk me for two months. What had begun as a wonderful sexual exploration became overwhelming, scary, and isolating. Four years later, I trust I’ve come a long way. I rarely think of that older man, of the nights I spent jumping every time the phone rang. I’ve learned to overcome some of the emotional and sexual obstacles “the bad relationship” left in the wake of a police visit. Even so, today an older man harassed me for my number, got too close, touched my hair and asked if he could walk me home. As I biked home, I trembled. I am so glad to be in a better place now and I know that I wouldn’t let that happen again. I’m no longer 19, sleeping in a dorm room. I am 23, alive, strong, and powerful. But I’ll probably cry tonight.

• 242 • I have a fascination with battered wives; probably because I bruise easily and always have to deal with awkward questions. On a visit to my friend, I decided to use stage makeup to create a black eye and bloody lip. I then went about introducing myself to people, for some reason getting a kick out of creeping strangers out. Then my friend’s roommate (gay) and I started a role play of battered/batterer, which resulted in my first near-blow job of a homosexual in the middle of a kitchen at a party. We all have to start somewhere.

• 243 • I’m a 20 year old student living in San Antonio, TX. I study fine arts and graphic design. Right now I’m sitting in my boyfriend’s house. He is also ten years older than I, most people say this is a mistake, But I love him. It is strange, we are almost complete opposites. I am a social butterfly, he is a World of Warcraft Addict I like to drink and smoke weed more than occasionally, and do drugs for fun every once in a while. He won’t touch a beer.

I am a cat lover, and he is allergic. I am an artist, a free spirit, extremely spontaneous. He is a homebody, a geek, but extremely SEXY. Last night I took my 31 year old boyfriend to my good friend’s 21st birthday party. It went okay but I didn’t feel like myself. I know its hard to get a 31 year old to enjoy things that a 21 would enjoy. We’ve dated two years now. He wants me to move with him across the country. This will be the hardest decision I will ever have to make. The past two years have been wonderful, dramatic, and everything in between, but we’ve stuck by each other trying to make it work. This is an example that anyone can make things work if you try to meet half way, and open your mind. We’ll see.

• 244 • Two years ago, I found a letter from my mother to my father. It was dated in 1996 - I was in third grade. It consisted of hints of infidelity and other references. One night, I spoke to my mother about this letter and found out a sad story. My mom proceeded to tell me that my father cheated on her when we were young children. Not only was she faced with his infidelity… but he contracted HIV. And his partner was a man. Strangely, this doesn’t change my day to day thoughts of my father… as a father. He has done everything to support our family and loves us all. He works hard all the time, and shows my mother that he really does care for her. But it makes me sad for my mother. It makes me sad because I know she loves him so much. She loves him so much to have sex with him. So for years, she has put herself at risk every time they have sex. To be faced with the realization that the man you loved - not only cheated on you… not only cheated on you with someone infected with HIV… but also another man. It makes me so sad that I’ll cry.

I know she had another chance of a pure love. A love with someone who would return it as it was given. That would treat her like a princess. A love that wasn’t with my father and wasn’t with our family. She just married the wrong man.

• 245 • I am 22 years old, the child of an abusive father and a mother who has Battered Women Syndrome. What I experienced in my childhood has affected me in ways I am unable to count. I have anxiety attacks cannot look at my father in the eyes, and suffocate people with my attachment to them. Last year, I experience death twice—my best friend’s sister died as well as my uncle. Last year, I tasted love for the first time. Or maybe it was the illusion of love. I’m still trying to figure that one out. I found myself in a relationship with one of my closest friends, who, like me,is a girl. I am not bisexual or a lesbian but this is how things happened. Nobody knows we dated for five months. We are each-other’s guilty secrets. We shared life stories, kisses, hours long make-out sessions, failures. Now we hardly talk. I feel so guilty for what occurred between us, wish I could stop what happened by traveling back in time and saying NO. She moved on faster than I did. My ego is still bruised. My heart, even more so. I haven’t prayed in months. Last time I spoke to God, I could only ask “why me?” I wish I could speak to Him now. I wish I was fearless. I wish I didn’t hate myself. I hope this helps someone, my words. I’m a poet. Writing used to be therapeutic. Now, it just conjures up memories from my past that I once buried in the back yard of my mind. As helpless as I feel, the compassion that runs through my veins keeps me waking up every morning. ‘Cause I want to save the abused animals of the world. All of them. They feel pain, they suffer. They cry. They are ignored. Experimented on. Eaten. Dissected. Enslaved. Slaughtered. Despite the hell they go through, they still trust people. X-Files taught me to trust no one. But here I am, trusting you, a complete stranger, with my secret. Thanks for taking these demons. I love you for it. Be kind to others. You might save a life. Or two. Or many. (Or your own).

• 246 • I realized something wonderful the other day. I don’t just want to have sex with her, I want to make love to her. She’ll probably still say no but I’m glad I’ve come to the conclusion that there is a difference.

• 247 • I’m a 19-year-old, white, American male. My hair began to gray at age 17. I have developed Peyronie’s Disease (an extreme and painful bend in the penis caused by a plaque deposit that rarely goes away and cannot be treated by medicine which can sometimes progress into full erectile dysfunction). I am a virgin and have never been in a relationship. I don’t know whether I’m straight, gay, or bisexual because of my lack of experience. I fear I will live life alone because of all these things. I don’t know what keeps me going. Family? They are fine and all, but I can’t live through them. Why should I continue?

• 248 • I am a bad person, I have had sex with a girl that was really nice and vulnerable. I need to let this out as it has been almost seven years and I still think of her even though I am now married. Let’s hope she can forgive and forget, like I am trying to do.

• 249 • Many people think I am a slut. I wish I were.

• 250 • I have an older brother who controls my life. He wants us to finish college together first and then start our lives before I can do whatever I want to do. Problem is, I’ve fallen in love with a classmate. Something I wasn’t expecting in college… Everyone is starting to see it, even my brother. The boy I’m in love with has even asked my brother for his approval in us dating and he turned him down. I wish I had the strength to tell him I’ve fallen in love but I can’t. I’m afraid to. I wish I can run away and leave my family but I can’t. I love them too much. Every time I think about it, I think of the disappointment the arguing the fighting the pain I see in my mom’s face when I fight with my brother so I stay quiet I don’t fight back… I don’t understand my brother… I’ve secretly been seeing the boy, but I don’t want it to be a secret. I have no shame in what I have… I’m just afraid.

• 251 • I realized yesterday that I couldn’t remember my mother’s eyebrows. I tried to draw a portrait of her, what she would look like now. But the eyes were all wrong. That much I could tell. Six years can be forever. I look more like her every day. I need her every day. I’m graduating, uncertain, afraid. I want so desperately to make her proud— but really, what’s the point? I can’t. My dear mother, when you were my age, you were engaged, so sure of the path ahead. But I am still a child, your child, and would give anything to hear your voice, your advice, eat your food, hear your jokes. I still want to make you proud.

• 252 • Everyday I’m told I look, sound, or act like my mother. I don’t remember exactly what my mother looked like. I don’t remember how she laughed.

And I can’t remember her mannerisms. Four years is too long.

• 253 • My mother’s husband, the only one of her men who’s ever treated us right, died when I was two, which sent my mother into a spiral of depression. When I was four one day my mother was drinking and crying and I was playing with my toy phone, I picked up the phone, and handed it to my mother, and said “mommy it’s daddy, and he says he wants you to stop crying.” Now many years have passed, my mother continues to verbally abuse me and inflict her bipolar disorder on our family, so every night I usually cry, and all I wish I had was somebody or something to tell me that its okay to stop crying.

• 254 • I still love my daughter’s mother. It has been seven years since we have been together. Our daughter is eight. For seven years I have wanted to tell her how I feel. But I am afraid.

• 255 • My mother is allowing cancer to kill her without a fight. She thinks the doctors gave her cancer. She thinks everyone is out to get her. I am so scared that I am going to end up like her. I hope I can’t catch her crazy.

• 256 • I’m going to write an entry to get something off my chest; sometimes it is easiest to tell something private to a complete stranger. This past summer I visited the country of my heritage—India. I have been there dozens of times before, but this time I experienced the country in an entirely new way—and I hated it. I hated every moment of the two weeks I was there.

Yes it is an uncomfortable place to stay with the heat, the pollution and the filth you see, smell, and hear—but this isn’t what bothered me. What bothered me was how my grandmother’s servant sat on the floor and carried on a conversation with my grandma, how my grandma did not tell her to sit on the couch. What bothered me was how eight year old girls on the streets are raising their younger siblings and tapping on the windows of Mercedes for an Indian rupee. What bothered me is how the rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer. How nobody gives a shit about the kids who die of starvation on the streets every day, how mothers resort to prostitution to feed their children and how fathers turn to alcohol to avoid their responsibilities. While all this goes on the rich relax in their air conditioned homes with an abundance of food—but not enough to feed the people living in the slum behind their apartment complex. This country is in a horrible state of affairs. The only people with a voice are staying quiet, sitting on their money while the people of the country are suffering. All in all, I wasn’t to say I am a proud American, I am thankful for living in a country where I have so many freedoms, and I never realized this until I went and visited a country where a caste system is still prevalent and the government is run by bunch of crooks who keep feeding the wrong people. I am sorry that I cannot do anything to change the state of affairs in this country and I feel bad that I keep hating on India, but the country really is a hopeless case. God Bless America. I have lived out of this country for longer than I have cared. It was completely involuntary and left me with more unhappy memories of what life is truly like than I will probably ever see within a developed country. Yet for all the sadness and horrible things I have seen while in the world, I can’t help but feel hope when people can consistently out-perform my expectations, even when there is completely no reason for them to do so.

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• 257 • I wish my mother would realize how much she has changed since she married her second husband. My sister and I are miserable, and she doesn’t care. But more than that, she is miserable. She cries all the time. She lies all the time, to him and to us. I don’t want him to ruin her. She complains to me, yes, even has threatened to leave him a few times. But she has never followed through. I hate that more than anything. The small hope I have that we might be happy again, right before she runs into his abusing arms again. She always thinks about tomorrow, when my sister and I will be out of the house at college, and how she will be all alone. But she doesn’t think about today.

• 258 • I’m turning into my mother. It’s a slow process, but a complete transformation, nonetheless. I’m here writing this now because I know this is something she’d never do. I hope this gets published. Maybe that will stop the process. Maybe I will become someone else. Who knows?

• 259 • As a child my mother and I traveled cross-country in a car. Once I remained silent for awhile and she asked me what I was doing. I replied “I’m praying.” She asked “what are you praying about?” And I said to her “I’m praying it’s not genetic.” She laughed so hard she had to pull over. Yeah, that was me, age 8. Tragically the insanity is genetic.

• 260 • I was born 16 years and three months ago. I feel like I’ve only been alive for three of those years. 11 other years I have spent being completely blissfully unaware of my surroundings, life and its hardships. I’ve spent two years in

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complete pain and anguish, wanting to be somewhere else, wishing I was someone else, crying myself to sleep and fighting against my inner demons that want to kill me. Three years ago I met this guy who made me realize that life is worth it and I should never take anything for granted. Five months ago, I fell in love. Today, I have never been happier to be alive. I was born 16 years and three months ago. And I wouldn’t give up a single moment for anything.

• 261 • Alex was full of life. He used to tell me that the best compliment he had ever received was when someone had called him “sparky.” And he was… he was vivacious, fun, exciting. I met Alex almost three years ago now, on Valentine’s Day. We met up in a little coffee shop away from our college campus… and I knew from the moment that I saw him waiting for my arrival in the very back of that bright room, that he would change my life. When you’re staring a sea of change and transition in the face, fully acknowledging it’s presence, you have two options. One is to bid it welcome and allow it to enter like you’ve never been able to before simply because you were unaware of it’s kinetic power… Or you can run from it. Needless to say, Alex disarmed me to the point where I couldn’t deny whatever magnetism poured out between us. So we fell in love the first day we met. And we fought, and we laughed, and we kissed, and we laughed some more. And effortlessly, I fell in love for the first time in my life. I was 19. He was 22. We had so many amazingly wonderful times together often followed by the kind of awful fights that only happen between two people that are truly in love. It also didn’t help that we both were terrified of what we were feeling. He was so emotional and intelligent… he taught me so much about myself, about life, about who I wanted to be. Last summer, after two years of our chaotic and tumultuous relationship, Alex and I finally ended the broken relationship that we’d both tried so desperately to hold on to. We still spoke every night and laughed and argued like we used to, but things seemed different. He had graduated from college and had the world in front of him, I was preparing to study abroad in England for a year. We lost touch around August and I

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hadn’t heard from him for a few months. I came home at Christmas time and debated on giving him a call, but decided against it. On January 4th, I got a text message from my friend telling me that she’d heard Alex had OD’d the previous night… most people tell me that it was suicide. Alex died on January third, 2010. He was one of the best friends that I have ever had, one of the most influential people in my life, and one of the two true loves of my life. I don’t know where I’m going with this little anecdote, but death is permanent. Now we can never go to coffee shops again, or dance around my kitchen, or just laugh through the whole night. When you lose someone like Alex, you hurt in places you never thought existed. I miss him every single day. In fact, I just woke up from a dream about him and I thought that I could smell him on my skin. When will this aching end?

• 262 • I only have one cousin close to my age. Well, had. He lived a couple of states away, but we were internet buddies and got pretty close. I remember the first time I told him I loved him—just like I would have told my “normal” friends. We had a moment of awkward, then he returned the sentiment. From then on we referred to each other as “love-cousins,” reveling in the naughty air about it and the friendly intimacy of our relationship. When we got the phone call, my mom looked like all her breath had been sucked into a vacuum. “Who died?” I joked. My cousin took his life. I needed to get out. To breathe. I started running, but it was dark. Even if it was light I wouldn’t have been able to see past my curtain of tears. I fell, tearing my pants and busting my knees, but I had to keep running. Away. Towards… I don’t know. I grew up really quickly, but I’m still running.

• 263 • How can parents affect their children so much? Two days ago, I drove back from Sonny’s to my house, my mom in the front passenger seat. I passed my driving test earlier that day and could hardly stop smiling because of how proud I felt. During the drive, I accelerated up a hill in order to maintain my

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speed. I forgot that a traffic light was at the top of the hill, so I blew through the intersection (luckily the light was green). My mom, talking on her cell phone, began snapping her fingers and giving me that disappointed, almost offended, look. My pride: gone. I felt that I didn’t deserve to drive anymore, like I had just broken some cardinal rule of society and would be forced into exile. Fuck it. The incident ruined the rest of my day, well, at least until my mom made me laugh fifteen minutes later.

• 264 • I can’t seem to get past this overwhelming feeling that crushes and beats upon my heart, I once had a friend, she was closer to me than anyone I had ever known. For a little more than a year I told her anything and everything, and I loved her from the moment I first started talking to her. She has a view of the world in a way that I have always desired and never achieved, she sees it in the wonder and spectacular vision of one blessed at every moment of every day. She seemed to know God, my faith was a shadow compared to the way she knew him. I longed to see Him through her eyes, and with her help I was beginning to catch a glimmer. One day I realized I loved her, it took me a long time to acknowledge it. And at that point I didn’t know what to do, I had always shared with her everything and yet suddenly I could not confide this secret. This terrible thought and feeling that I knew would separate me from my closest friend. I grew depressed and angry and I could not find a way to hide it from her. Eventually I told her everything I felt. She told me it would never work, and that is when the silence began. It happened slowly, for such a long time it seemed as if this terrible poisonous feeling would pass and be forgotten, but it never did. It’s been about six months since this tumor started to grow and now she talks only rarely to me, I miss her beyond words, and I know she has someone else, someone who I have to see every day and try not to hate. Someone who I know is not right for her. And as I read this I hate who I have become, resorting to releasing my pain to you, I will not ever know you.

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• 265 • I’m sitting in my university’s computer lab and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be sitting anywhere else but here. What would it be like at this exact moment in Thailand or in Brussels? I could be walking down thousand year old streets and rediscovering things that the modern world has forgotten. But instead I am destined to learn about all these things in a classroom. I’d much prefer to live them.

• 266 • I’m going to be 24 tomorrow. I’ve been married, miserable, been a cheater, and got divorced. My dad is elderly, my brother is handicapped and I need to have major hip-reconstructive surgery. My mom died when I was 11. I’m flat broke. I applied to grad school, got in, then had to defer. I work a job I only sort of like. Thank goodness for the people. Sometimes I have no idea where my life is going. I have more debt than I’d like, and no foreseeable way to pay it off. I demoted myself at work. My salary is going down. I’m prone to UTI’s, have a pre-ulcer and migraines. I started recreationally using prescription pain pills and I am terrified of becoming addicted. But… I’m in love. With a wonderful man, who’s the perfect fit for me. So none of that other bullshit matters. Happy birthday to me!

• 267 • I want to write about the birth of my daughter. I grew up in a house full of boys. I have four brothers and no sisters. When I got pregnant the first time I just assumed that I would have a boy—never even thought about the possibility of a girl. (My husband and I are a little old fashioned, and we didn’t find out our babies’ gender during the pregnancies. We wanted to wait until the birth, to draw out the suspense.) And, sure enough, I had a boy. And I was ecstatic, I understand boys, I love boys, and having a boy felt like a prize to me. And so, when I got pregnant again, I likewise assumed that I would have another boy. I was excited for my son to have a little brother. I even said out loud that I hoped it was another boy. That I wouldn’t know what to do with a girl.

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I was having a repeat c/section. So, on that cold winter morning, my husband drove me to the hospital. I was lying on the table, squeezing my husband’s hand, listening to the surgeon and her assistant talking their way through the procedure. I could feel my body being moved around, from side-to-side, and then my hips slammed down onto the table. The doctor held the baby up and said “well, Dad, what do we have here?” And I looked at my husband as he croaked out “A GIRL!!! WE HAVE A GIRL!!!” And I will never forget the wave of love that crashed over me in that moment. I could not believe that I had not “wanted” a girl. I could not believe how absolutely perfect she was. And as the doctor held her up, my baby girl arched her back and screamed. I remember that I thought she looked like a cat. And I remember crying and saying “she wants her mama, she wants her mama.” In the days and weeks that followed, I had the most amazing insights into my own thoughts and feelings about being a woman. I had never thought very highly of women, including and especially myself! It’s so strange to say that, but it’s true. But in that moment when I first met my daughter, that changed. It was like a light went on and illuminated the beauty of the feminine. Something I had never seen clearly. I am so thankful that I have my daughter. And I am so thankful that by simply existing she gave me a glimpse of my own value as a person, as a woman. She is a very special little blessing.

• 268 • At age 17 I began to argue with my parents about starting a career in the Military. At age 18 I joined. At age 18, I asked my high school sweet heart to marry me. At age 19, I slept with another woman. At age 19, I hate my job, my country, and the majority of the people around me. But, when I look back on my past, and count up the things I’ve done, I can smile with the satisfaction, that at age 19, I had accomplished everything I had ever wanted in life. A wife, an affair, and a career in the military. Things like that, make me smile. Know what else makes me smile? The fact that everyone knows I’m shallow, hateful, rude, selfish, and a jerk. I love every single moment of it.

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• 269 • My name is Kristen, I’m 17 and I have an extremely awkward family. My dad is a transvestite and whereas I’ve known for seven years, I still don’t know how to deal with it. Most of my family ignores it and my friends who know about it don’t understand. They think it’s a choice he makes and is the way he is by choice. But he’s been like that his whole life. I don’t know what to think about or how I’m supposed to act when my dad asks me if I think a dress is cute. I feel ashamed of my dad, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel anything else, and I feel guilty, but I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. That’s just life I guess.

• 270 • My sister tells me I breathe too loudly, and I feel ashamed for breathing.

• 271 • So, today was a bad day. No, not really, it started off decent and then an hour ago went to shit. You see, I’ve been with my boyfriend for 15 months and his brother passed away recently. Some days I’ll be fine and then other days I’ll go to bed crying. To say the least I’m polishing off a vitamin water bottle filled with apple cider flavored booze and then going to sleep. I guess you can call this a bad day. At least I won’t remember crying.

• 272 • One of my best friend’s brother died suddenly Christmas Eve at the age of 19. We used to hang out all the time, played baseball and basketball in high school together, and dated two girls who were best friends also. I hadn’t seen him in almost a year before the funeral. After he was done speaking to the congregation at the memorial service, he walked straight over to the casket, knelt on one knee while putting one hand on the head of the casket, and then rested his forehead over his hand for several minutes. It was one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever seen in my tragedy filled life. Lately I’ve been having dreams where the roles were switched… he and his brother were watching my brothers and sister kneeling with their heads on my casket. I

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wake up with a terrifying combination of emotions, feeling depressed to see my own siblings mourning and hurt, joy that his brother is alive, and guilt that my subconscious could be so selfish to dream of such a thing.

• 273 • I am 26. I am a diagnosed bipolar controlling it without medication. My brother died when I was a child. I was molested when I was seven. My parents are divorced. Money is tight. I have a wonderful husband. I have great friends. My family is amazing. I’m studying horticulture and I love it. I get excited over little things. I am talented. I am strong. I am beautiful. The world is full of things we don’t want to see, don’t want to do and don’t want to know about. The world is full of beauty, fascination, and excitement. I am happy. I am content.

• 274 • I killed him, you know. I never meant to. It was love. Not romantic, but the kind shared between siblings. He was my big brother. And now he’s gone. Love killed him. Love for me. We got into that wreck and he spun the car to keep me safe. He spun the car so he hit the tree instead of me. I killed him. He died for love.

• 275 • I’m only fifteen. I have two brothers. My parents are divorced and remarried. Nobody knows me, not even myself. I am a different person every day, trying to please those around me, but never pleasing myself. I know nothing.

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• 276 • I love my brother. I may say that he is a dick or that he is a fuck up, but I love him. There is no getting around the fact that I love him to death. I have never told him this or expressed it in any way and I feel bad that I can’t bring myself to say it. I will always love you no matter what, and I miss you.

• 277 • I am a senior in high school, about to graduate. I’m already taking college classes and I’ve applied to all of the “credible” and “prestigious” schools… and gotten accepted. I’m going pre-med, hoping to eventually become an allergy specialist. I’ve always set high goals for myself and tried to do my best and my parents have made it clear that they are more than impressed. My problem, however, is my community college drop-out 20 year old brother who’s done nothing with his life. He feels like my parents favor me because of my accomplishments and studiousness, and no matter how much they say they don’t… it’s kind of true. I know they don’t want it to be that way, but they can’t really help it… So here I am, in this horrible wrecking of emotions between my brother and my parents, and I don’t want any of it. I just want my brother to love me for who I am and realize that I haven’t been so accomplished just to spite him. I want my parents to love me for me and not all the successes I’ve had in my educational career. Is there a middle ground? I highly doubt that… People have forgotten what family is…

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• 278 • My story… has just begun. In just a few short years lived within 19 years I have gone from living in the projects to living in a house with my own room. I have gone from Special Ed classes to going to college for nursing… losing my four year old cousin and two months later, my two year old brother dying. My story goes on and on but my point to this story is God helped me through it all and without him, I wouldn’t have made it! If you’re reading this and you feel like you’re lost or your life is pointless, it’s not. God created you and loves you… and your story might just help someone too!

• 279 • Tonight, I decided to go swimming by myself. I had a long day at the hospital, and I was so exhausted. Right before it got dark, I began walking out to the pool with a towel, and I had a sun dress on over my bathing suit. My mom looked at me kind of odd, and I explained to her that I just wanted to relax in the water. She seemed a little confused (I was going alone, which is very unlike me), but she didn’t question it. I got out to the pool, laid out my towel, and hesitated. You see, I was planning on this being my last swim. I was going to swim for a while, and then let myself sink to the bottom and just forget to breathe. That’s why I wore the dress. I didn’t want to be taken away in a bathing suit. That’s just not classy. Anyways, I didn’t feel like it was the right time, so I laid in a chair. I was going to wait a little. That’s when my brother saved me. You see, we don’t hang out much anymore. He’s into football and pretty girls, and I’m into art and dorky boys. He came out and said he wanted to swim. We ended up just talking forever.

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If he wouldn’t have joined me, I’d be floating face-down in my pool. I don’t know what else could have stopped me. And for that, I love him more than he’ll ever know.

• 280 • I just got out of a two and a half year relationship with a girl who I was madly in love with. I found out that she had cheated on me on multiple occasions which lead me to break it off. For a couple weeks I was really depressed, just sitting around the house, not wanting to go out with friends or spend time with anyone but myself and my thoughts. I would constantly doubt what I did, even though I knew it was the right thing to do. She was a very emotionally abusive partner and I put up with it because sometimes my emotions cloud my judgement. I would always think about the good times we had instead of thinking of the pain she caused me towards the end of the relationship. I did meet a new girl though, we hit it off right away. I started taking her out on dates and I was extremely happy for the first time in a very long time. I was back to being myself, my friends noticed, my mother noticed, I was myself for the first time in over a year. The other night, I poured out my heart to this new girl. I told her how much she meant to me and how I feel when I’m with her. I told her that I was scared/nervous at how fast I started to fall for her. She told me how she felt and I was so happy. Then last night, we were celebrating my brothers birthday and some guys I don’t know showed up to the party. My girl started talking to one of the guys, I didn’t care at first cause I was chatting with all my friends that were there. Eventually, she wouldn’t even acknowledge me when I was in the room or trying to talk to her. She was content with flirting with this new guy even when she could see me in the room. I had to leave because I was becoming physically sick. She ended up taking him to his house because he couldn’t drive. Once again I put myself out there and my heart has been toyed with, I have been played with and thrown away for something new. I am no longer myself again

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• 281 • Yesterday my brother left. He’s in the Marines now. We’re all proud of him, but I barely know him. I wanted to say “I love you” when I said goodbye, but I felt silly. He doesn’t believe in emotions and they are all I have.

• 282 • What happened to me in Switzerland: 17 years old: I went overseas for the first time with 50 bucks and no idea what I was doing. I fell in love with a boy with whom I could not communicate verbally and taught myself his languages. I taught myself the unwritten language of Swiss German (which, contrary to popular belief, is an entire language of its own and not a dialect). My love became an alcoholic. He abused me. I was scared to leave, scared I couldn’t survive in Europe without him. This was after we were married. I quit art school to go marry him… our relationship lasted five years through the Iraq war, from a week before it was declared until it should’ve been long since over, but unfortunately the war lasted longer than our love and is still thriving. Our sad relationship is jealous of the Iraqi war and its comparative longevity. I left as a 22 year old self-taught trilingual. I opened my own gallery and lived on painting sales until I got out of Switzerland. They tried to deport me. They sent me a letter saying I should leave the country and my old love came to the petition rally to sign the petition that got my deportation repealed. I abandoned the gallery and moved back here to Michigan this February when my 35 year old brother had a heart attack and two seizures. He is waiting for a kidney, pancreas, and heart transplant and lives now only hooked up to tubes. I spend my days and evening holding the fibers of my family together. I deserted my marriage and my life and I feel like a failure. I never finished college and I don’t know where I am going, but I am trying so hard.

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• 283 • Sometimes I get stuck on one thing. It could be an emotion, sometimes a memory, or even a person. I hold on to these things, these pieces of my life, and for some reason, I convince myself that my existence would be incomplete without them. Some things are good—experiences with friends, family reunions, staring out the window at the Negev in Israel atop an orangered rock formation that has been there for thousands of years, but others I can’t seem to shake from my mind—things I know I’d be better off without. Being suffocated and thrown out of the car by my brother, my first kiss (a mistake), the one that got away, my entire family sitting in tears over the unfixable destruction my brother had caused. Though these things may have made me stronger, it’s hard not to break myself up over associating myself with them. I am an individual and independent. One day I won’t be defined by my past—I will be me, but for right now, I am everything.

• 284 • I have a twin brother and I love him to pieces. He is slightly depressed- I say ‘slightly’ because he has talked to a therapist, but not declared clinically depressed. I know different. I found him last week sitting in his dark room all alone in a corner without any light. It scares me. I know he won’t do anything to hurt himself (I hope), but he doesn’t talk to me or any of his friends. They all worry about him as much as I do. He used to talk to this girl, but she sort of left him (for lack of better description). Now I don’t know what to do.

• 285 • I saw a video today where someone asked a group of people, “if you could wake up anywhere, without any sort of limitations, where would you wake up?” A lot of people said with their significant other, or in some foreign place like Europe or the Bahamas or Mars. If I could wake up, I’d wake up 14 years ago in the bed at my old house. I would be eight years old. It would be a year after my parents divorced, and there wouldn’t be any yelling or tension or silent meals. I would wake up at my dad’s house in my old bed with the millions of stuffed animals crowding my

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feet. I could wake up and play pirates with my brother, and sing old musicals with my dad, and eat his famously unhealthy fried chicken. When I was nine my Dad passed away. I want to go back so badly, and have that time with him again. I never got to ask him about boys or tell me I looked like a princess in my Mom’s prom dress or have him intimidate boyfriends into silence. I miss him so much, and I worry that he isn’t proud of me on a daily basis. He was an MSU professor and I go to UofM. He HATED UofM. If I could go back, I wouldn’t go back to ask all those things (I’d be eight after all, boys had cooties). I’d just ask for a hug and hug him as long as I could. I miss my dad. I want him back.

• 286 • Already in my life I’ve watched friends die, and loved ones leave, I had my childhood stolen by someone I thought I could trust when I was 7, lived through my dads alcoholism just to watch my brother fall into his place, fell in love with a boy just to watch him leave me standing alone. But I look at my mother, so strong and so powerful, who overcame abuse and raised two kids on her own at my age and who still fights everyday… I feel like I owe it to her. To my mother… to keep holding on. I love her.

• 287 • About three months ago, my best friends dad died of lung cancer. For all the time I’ve known him, he had never smoked, rarely drank, and was an amazing man. I don’t even know how he got cancer. But once it was all done, and he passed away, I went to his viewing. The one thing that hit me the most was my friends little brother, who was 6, having a death grip on my friends index finger. His name is Sean, and when he saw me he came and gave me a hug. I’m above average height for my age, 15 years old and 5’ 11 1/2”, but the force of this little kid giving me a hug just proved to me that even if someone is not related by blood, they can still care about you and turn to you when they’re in a bad time in their lives.

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• 288 • My older brother is spiraling into depression, my parents won’t do anything. I’m suffering from an eating disorder, my parents don’t see it. My sister is turning into a judgmental bitch, my parents refuse to accept it. I can’t wait to go to college and get away from it all, I know running away isn’t usually the answer, but in this case it’s my only way out.

• 289 • My life is blessed… I’ve got three great kids. I’m getting back into my art (Musician) and having clarity and a spiritual connection has literally saved me from the abyss from which I was in for years. I was a professional musician that became a stock broker and literally had everything you could want in terms of a life. One thing I didn’t have was a connection to something and I was a total alcoholic. Didn’t even know it. Thought everyone drank until they got drunk and avoid life every day. Anyway, wife divorced me, lost my job and became homeless (does this sound like a Country song, haha)… Long story short, went into rehab, got sober, got connected again and life is fantastic! I’m the Dad and guy I always knew I was but could never be. So, people… there is ALWAYS hope and help, just reach out for it. Life is more beautiful than I ever imagined! Peace!

• 290 • I am twenty years old and have my whole life ahead of me. To most I live a pretty good life. There is nothing particularly wrong in my life, I have good parents, college is paid for, there is a roof over my head, I have a good job and a great boyfriend. My problem? I lie, I lie about everything. I make up horrible stories about my life and pass them off as the truth. I say I have an abusive mother, that my parents kicked me out, that I have cancer, that I once had an addiction to meth, that I had a twin brother that died… all of them lies. Why? I feel that is the life I deserve. All those things add up to excuses for myself, give me reason to be as depressed as I am. I know depression can be a clinical disease, something you can get help and medication for. But I hate it. I have no reason in life to be depressed. So I make up these lies, I

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am lying to myself and the ones I love. I hate myself for it. How do I make it stop? That is beyond me. I have taken it too far.

• 291 • Sometimes it hurts to hear people bashing on religious nuts. Those religious nuts are my misguided brothers and sisters who need to hear the message they themselves scream in the face of ‘evil-doers.’ I hate that my gracious, loving, and accepting God is being represented by eccentric, rude, and unloving individuals… but I love them for being passionate, albeit misguided. My God loves every person that these religious nuts hate. Jesus died for me, for religious nuts, for you, and for your grandma.

• 292 • Three years ago my sister was shot. It still haunts me. I’ve almost completed college now without talking to her, without telling her about the boys and girls I’m crushing on, without getting her approval of my major, my life plans, my beliefs, my priorities. She always guided me and kept me on track. These past three years I feel as though I’ve been living blind, but at the same time I feel as though I can finally see. I miss her. So Much. It feels silly to even use the word “miss” because it is so much deeper and more complex, but at the same time I feel like for the first time in my life I finally feel free and liberated. I’ve finally been living just for me, looking for my own approval and my own happiness. The best part is I think she would get a kick of out whom I’ve grown in to. I still feel as incredibly connected and see so much of her in myself and the people and things around me. If anything, I feel her now more than ever.

• 293 • I was verbally abused as a child and took that hate out on my little sister. I throughly and completely regret that and wish I could fix it. I don’t think I will ever be able to have children of my own for the fear that I will put them through the hell I went through. I think I’m probably just meant to be alone

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forever, and right now, even years after the abuse is over and things are much better, I still can’t trust myself and am okay with being alone.

• 294 • After finding this website, and reading the entries that have been posted, I noticed that a lot of them are sad and tragic so instead of writing about my pain, I’m going to write something hopeful. 11 months ago my Mom died. I am 21 years old and I thought my life was going to be over. What I’ve found is that my life still continues to go on, and that even when the worst thing you can imagine happens to you, you’re life will continue as well. I miss her everyday, but her death has also brought me closer to my Dad and my sisters. After years of depression and self injury, I’m finally starting to see the hope and joy in life. I love you Mommy.

• 295 • One dreary Sunday when I was six years old, I sat in Catholic Catechism class. The wizened nun at the front of the room asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” My six year old brain reasoned, if I lie in church, I’m going to hell. “Jewish,” I told her. I was not invited back to Catechism class the next Sunday. I invited Sister Moriatry to my Bat Mitzvah seven years later, but she didn’t attend.

• 296 • I’m 23 years old and I feel as if life is passing me by or going in the wrong direction. When I was little, I had dreams as big as the sky and writing was my passion. With an inspiration as simple as a smile on someone’s face I could write parodies of love and hope and dreams. Now my words are lost just as I fear I am lost. I was always told, “go to college, graduate from college. You’re going to be the first to graduate from college. “ OK—I’ve graduated. Now what do I do? Where is my road marker or my traffic cop to tell me what turn to take what road to get on. I still write, but not as often as I did. The inspirations aren’t jumping at me as they once did. It’s as if all the color

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in the world is fading and I’m helpless… trapped almost… I find myself questioning whether moving here, taking this job, was a good idea. Or was it just a good idea to someone else, and my eagerness to please said, “take it!” I’m tired of being the girl that does whatever someone wants because I’m too scared to piss someone off. I’ve spent my entire life avoiding men, avoiding relationships because I’m too scared of what my family will say or do. Great! My sisters fucked up their lives! It doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck up mine! Why can’t people just see me… not my sisters. I’m a smart girl, independent and capable of anything… so why do I feel like I did something wrong when I do something for myself? Why do I feel like I should ask permission or approval to use my own money or do the things I want to do… My family should be supporting me but I feel like they’re observing me more than anything. Watching with glaring eyes saying, “screw up and it will be known to everyone.” Why can’t I just feel supported and loved… family shouldn’t make you feel that way.

• 297 • When I graduated from high school, I hadn’t kissed anyone yet. Well, kind of. I had been kissed, but not since I was 13, and both times that had happened I’d literally just stood there and had one planted on me. So, I made up a story that I had had a thing with my best male friend, and I told my closest girl friends, and my sister. Things change pretty quickly. I stopped wearing makeup because I felt so fucking fake and I hated myself for feeling like I had to paint my face every day. I lost my braces, and 20 pounds, got a pretty nice rack all of the sudden, and I discovered hair product. I got my lip pierced, and somewhere in there my confidence increased about 824%. When I got to college, the guys were everywhere, and for the first time in my life, they wanted me. I made some mistakes at first. I was so shocked to have someone interested in me that I didn’t really pay attention to who they were. I dated a lot of guys in the first year and a half of college, and in the meantime became someone I could finally accept. Those two things were mostly exclusive operations, by the way. I did not become a better person because of the guys I dated, that’s for sure. I did, however, learn a lot from all of them. Eventually, that best male friend of mine transferred to my school. Not long after, we started dating.

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The whole time, I was paranoid that he would find out about my lie in high school. It was a stupid concern, really, but it plagued my mind sometimes. He was the first guy to ever break up with me. I’m not willing to say he broke my heart, but I definitely gave him my heart, and when he handed it back, it was chipped at minimum. I’m ashamed that anyone thinks he was my first kiss. Because of our 6+ years of history, most people in my life think of him as the most serious guy I’ve been with so far in my short life. To those who haven’t been kissed yet, be patient. If you’re 16 or 36, be patient. I wish so much that I had been patient instead of creating this web of confusion based on a story that I sometimes forget myself isn’t true. The worst consequence is that because of my lie my former boyfriend has far more of a space and a hold on that time of my life than I ever should have given him.

• 298 • I’m 19 and I am very depressed. I’ve been depressed ever since 7th grade when the girl I loved called me a dyke and kicked a dead frog in my face. I’ve loved girls ever since then but nobody knows. Not my mom or friends or sister or aunt. I’ve loathed men ever since I knew it was supposed to be a mom and a DAD and children. I’ve been raped three different times by two men and molested by four different men and my cousin. I hate myself, my feelings, my friends, the boys I’ve put all my feelings and hopes in. I’m so ready for it to be over.

• 299 • Two months ago yesterday, my husband of twelve years, boyfriend of nineteen years, and father of my eleven and eight year old children moved out of our home we built four years ago. He said we were just too different. Does it take nineteen years to figure that out? Many days I have wondered if I will ever feel “OK” again. Today I know I will. I know I will still hurt. I know I will still be angry. I know I will still be overwhelmed with sadness at times. But, someday, I will be OK.

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• 300 • My sister attempted to commit suicide when I was in sixth grade. She was in eighth grade. She didn’t succeed. She is now 22 years old and still suffers from depression and anorexia. The same diseases that have plagued her since she was 13. I want so much to help her get healthy for good but I can’t bring myself to leave my happy “second” life behind at college and stay home with her. I feel selfish and horrible about it often. I only want the best for her, but I don’t want to give up my own life and future. I just hope she doesn’t die before I graduate college.

• 301 • I cling to every moment you call me beautiful or smart, because I know those are the best things you can say about me. I told you how my selfish running away allowed my dad to molest my sisters and almost break my mom’s arm. I told you that all the crap I’ve gone through doesn’t, in fact, make me strong. You’ve had an ideal life and are strong and amazing regardless. I haven’t told you about my past pornography addiction, how I bullied my sisters—even after all I’ve already put them through, and how horrified I am that I’m becoming my dad. I haven’t told you that you deserve someone better than me. If I told you, you’d either feel to sick to look at me again or try to make excuses for me to feel better about myself. I don’t know which one’s worse. You like me because I want to be good. I love you because you ARE good.

• 302 • As I saw you sitting here with a sign asking to share my story, it hit me. I wish I lived a more interesting life. Well, everyone wishes that, don’t they? You, reading this, are probably wishing that too. What have I done? Who will I become?

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I’ve become a friend, a lover, a sister, and a daughter. One day, you will know me. I dream to live. I live to change lives. I’ve known too many people who have chosen to end their lives and I wish to change that. I’m quiet, but I will talk to anyone who stops to say hello. Spread the smiles and bring hope to all those who are lost. If you see me, I hope I can change you.

• 303 • About a year ago (when I was 16), while my parents were away for the weekend, my older sister and I got into a physical fight where she proceeded to stab me. As soon as I could, I ran out of my house to try and get help and luckily a stranger driving down the road stopped to help me. My sister came out of the house and told the stranger I was mentally ill and had stabbed myself. The police showed up, I went to the hospital, I now have a long scar on my left arm, and my sister not only got away with what she did, my parents believed her side of the story and now I am known as the nutcase to my entire family. It gets worse, I’m afraid that if I don’t forgive my sister, I will become her. I already see it happening, little by little.

• 304 • My sister-in-law has been living with us rent free while she prepares for her wedding. It’s nice to feel like I’m doing something good for someone, giving her a chance to get things taken care of. However, it makes me incredibly uncomfortable having her in the house. She and I don’t argue, but every day I want to scream for her to get out of my house. I’m too private, and even though she’s family, she’s too different for me to feel at peace. I tell my wife that it’s not the sister, but the fact that she’s living with us that’s hard. But that’s only partially true. It’s also partially that she’s an amazingly selfish person, and living rent-free is something she just takes in stride. Sometimes she leaves a note that we’re out of cat litter and I just want to crumple it up and throw it in her face.

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• 305 • My first love was in first grade. I’m now in tenth and still miss him. He’s gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. I wish I had told him how I felt. One day we were walking home from the bus stop together and I had some little pictures in my book bag. They had our names in little hearts and things like that. My sister convinced me to make them and I was too scared someone would find them if I left them at home. Well I was walking and apparently didn’t zip up my book-bag so the wind just shot them out of my book-bag. I was mortified. He tried to help me pick them up but I was screaming at him to stand back and go away so I could pick them up by myself. He didn’t see them. I think. Whenever we went to his house he would shave chalk with a pocket knife. I don’t know why he did it but he did. I actually picked up that habit from him. After I’ve had a bad day I’d go in my room and take a pair of scissors to a stick of chalk. It makes me feel better every time. If you’re reading this and realize its about you, make the realization that I still love you and forget me. Thank you.

• 306 • Whenever I’m home alone, I like to dress up like Lady Gaga. High heels, a leotard, sunglasses… the whole thing.

• 307 • I am in the process of getting my second divorce. My wife says that she can no longer live with my schizophrenia/depression. It is true that I am very black most of the time, and very introverted. I can’t maintain any job. I understand that our relationship has suffered due to my illness. My illness makes reciprocation difficult. She knew of my condition before we married, but thought that she could help me. I had to be hospitalized in an adult psychiatric hospital for some time recently, and she announced her intentions of divorce as soon as I was dismissed. I do not blame her, but she has hurt me. I have lost my friend. All together, she hung in there for about 11 years. I

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have been on almost every med recommended for my illness, and none have helped. Now, I am facing electroconvulsive treatments, and am very scared. I often wonder to what degree other people suffer from depression. Maybe I am just a whimp and can not deal with things like others do. I would like to experience a ‘normal’ person’s depression, and I would like for them to experience mine. I feel that there is no hope for me, and that very soon I will be dead. I am all alone, and the stone I carry gets heavier every day. Now, I live with my parents as I have no other place to go and no money to go anywhere. I am 38 years old. Why me?

• 308 • I had my son five years ago when I was 15 and now I’m 20 and married to a different man and my son does not listen to me at all and I’m at my wits end I want to pack my bags and leave and that makes me a horrible mother and wife and all around person. I don’t know how I’m ever gonna feel different.

• 309 • One day I was looking up an achievement guide on youtube.com for a specific achievement for Left 4 Dead 2 and I managed to find someone that had posted a guide. I watched the video, got the achievement, and decided to message the person on XBox Live and see if they wanted to play sometime or would help me out. He said yes and promptly added me to his friends list. We talked and we played games together for a few months, and then became “friends.” Several months later, which is currently now, we’ve moved in together and plan on getting married. So, basically, I met my fiance thanks to Youtube, Microsoft, and video games. Honestly, I’ve never been happier.

• 310 • I am getting married in three months to the most amazing man I know. We decided to do a large wedding and we are regretting our decision. Weddings are not about what the bride wants, it’s about putting on a production for

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people you do not know. I am angry and depressed about having to do such an intimate act in front of 200 people. I dread my wedding day, I hate attention.

• 311 • I met the person I married young (20). Knew I always had an attraction for women but never acted on it. Had too many “close minded” beliefs to allow myself to explore these feelings. After nine years of marriage, I realized I could not do this anymore. I have no regrets. I have two beautiful daughters. I am great friends with my ex and am loving life.

• 312 • I was sent to live with another family when I was thirteen. They were orthodox Jews and had eight children, the mother was pregnant with her ninth. My family helped found the oldest and largest reform temple in Michigan. Ended up married at seventeen, four kids in four years, divorced after twenty years. Now I sculpt. Took twenty five years, but I have my life back.

• 313 • I am 23, married, and worried about giving birth. Weird I guess, but this is something I really want to get off my chest. I mean, I am worried about the pain, I am worried about getting a C-Section, which really annoys me, for I am a woman, I am given the door way to give birth so I don’t understand why nowadays, C-Section is so popular and at the same time, the thought of giving birth really scares me. Sometimes, I wonder if this is happening to me only, the fear seems to be so intense sometimes, I really wonder if I want to get pregnant or not. Thanks for reading.

• 314 • Wednesdays are defined by the desperate yearning to be Thursdays and the sudden realization that it could very easily be Tuesday. That’s how I woke up on every solemn holiday of the Wednesday. There’s no rational reason why today should be any different than the rest of the week, yet it’s a universal

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recognition that today, out of all seven others, will blow. To compensate, stores throw all kinds of deal at you—two dollar latte day, free bagel day—all to ease the tension. And ease the tension it has. My mid-week Wednesdays last significantly longer than they should, about 28 hours instead. It’s between three and six o’clock that time slows. My watch holds back on every tick and I tap it anxiously hoping to push the day forward. I got the watch from my Grandma, who, in a hopeless attempt to make me accept my femininity, buys me endless amounts of jewelry. She never prefaces her gifts with “happy birthday” or “merry Christmas” or “thinking of you,” but simply lets her eyes pierce through mine. “Won’t you get married?” they plead. Her jewelry serves as a sort of dowry, which I quickly pass on to friends, acquaintances, or Goodwill, all of which have a better chance at settling down than I ever will. The watch spins, dangling on its golden chain. Inside is a picture of a couple, my parents, smiling and holding one another. A manipulatively placed photo does the trick, Grams, no one would take this gift off my hands. I close the case and drop the watch back in my bag. You know what they say, a watched clock never boils.

• 315 • I’m 25. When I was younger I thought that I’d be doing great grand things by the time I reached 25. I thought I’d be married, with a kid or two to a great guy who had a great job and supported my art career. The reality of my 25th year: I’m still in college trying to “find my voice,” I’m confused about reality and this “real world” experience and what Life is really about. For me right now I find life meaningless and pointless. Watching people Live is as simple as from A to B. “A” being born and “B” dying. It’s what happens in the middle, what people Live for, that is what I find so bothersome now. I feel nothing. I want to do nothing and I really don’t want to be doing this for the next 60 years. I wish I could go back to my childhood self and tell her to never grow up too much. To always find the childish humor in everything. Don’t rush into being an adult and have fun. Because I don’t want to continue to go on through Life with my trunk of junk and the idea that all I’m really living for is to prolong death. I do want to Live. But no one has been able to explain to me how that’s done.

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• 316 • No one ever tells you what happens after college. Somehow, that step is skipped. The rest are outlined: birth, development, school, create personality, friends, more school, recreate personality, make new friends, even more school… have job, get married, have kids, repeat if necessary. I feel like I’ve stepped off the edge of a cliff and am trying to grab onto everything for support. Except, there are no more branches. There’s just me, and the supposed theory of gravity. It’s been six months since I’ve graduated, as my mother reminds me. A year since I’ve been somewhat stable, as my bank account reminds me. A year and a half since I felt like I was making a breakthrough, my emotions remind me. I wonder, will I ever be stable and happy? I’m hurting. I’m worried. I sometimes want to curl up and melt into the wall. I try to convince myself that the future holds opportunities and it’s my choice as to what I do with them. But some days, it’s harder than others.

• 317 • A happy marriage is possible… I’m living proof.

• 318 • I’m 27, I look up and see a calendar with a ferret theme. To my left, a deck of Pokemon cards and a gameboy color, sitting on the shelf are three transformers. Behind me sits a spiderman head which used to be filled with bubble gum, the background of my laptop is the ninja turtles. I have been living on a $0 income per year for almost two years now, thank god I’m close friends with the landlord or I would be out bummin’ on the side walk. I guess the message I’m trying to send to you kids is, when you say “I never want to grow up”, think long and hard about what you’re really saying. But, if you in fact do remain in your childish status, have a nice time sipping juice out of your looped straw.

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• 319 • I’m graduating from one of the best law schools in the country. I have a wonderful fiancé and everything seems like it should be going great. But, sometimes I feel like I just want to give it all up. I just want to walk away from my life and never look back. Sometimes I think I’m just going to run away from everything and start again somewhere new, with a new life and a new set of problems. I know that this is unrealistic and selfish of me, but I can’t help it. It feels like I have nothing to live for but a series of the same dull nothingness that I’ve known for my entire life. I just wish for once there was some promise of adventure and difference, but I know there’s not. I’m going to be average and stuck in this same “wonderful” life forever.

• 320 • I just had a fight with my parents. For the last few conversations, I had (falsely) hoped that we were finally on good, at least passable, terms. We spoke about the weather, school, politics, one’s health… but now looking back on it, I realized that was a conversation of strangers. Someone you sit next to on the bus or stand behind in line. Tonight’s, on the other hand, went to the other extreme; they always know to rip my heart out and tear it to pieces. They are efficient and methodical. They don’t waste time. They just start ripping. I won’t be talking to them anytime soon.

• 321 • I’m a 26 year old recent grad living in the state of Michigan. I have no idea what I want to do and no idea how to do anything. I know I’m born to do it bigger than this… A recent meeting with the dean of my school (former) has led to new inspiration: the meeting went as such… Me: Whine whine whine, how do I make something of myself… Whine whine whine… The Dean: Get the fuck out of Michigan. Go to California by following the sun west… Life is an adventure and if you don’t live it, who’s going to tell your story?

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Me: … (speechless)… The Dean: Again, get the fuck outta Michigan… My next moves are so unplanned… but my mind if now focused on leaving to live an adventure.

• 322 • So I want to write about when I realized that nothing is fixed and your life is your own. Like, no circumstances make things more predestined, but your actions do. I went to Europe. I was desperate for a break from my life. Like, school and loneliness and feeling like I had nothing to look forward to but no one to tell. So I ran away. I bought an expensive ticket to somewhere chic and European and I ran. When I got there, I was elated. Life was so novel because things looked different. But after awhile, it wore off. I was miserable again, this time 1,000 miles from home. I was worse off than before because I thought that if I couldn’t be happy in Europe, I had failed as a person. But then something happened. I connected to a person whom I’d previously scoffed at. And that person became a source of comfort and I realized that I could control my own destiny. And that may seem cliche, but it changed my life.

• 323 • I always thought I knew just what I wanted to do. My hobby became my major at the best school for it. One of the happiest days of my life was when I received my acceptance phone call. One of the unhappiest days of my life was when I realized this isn’t what I want to do anymore. It doesn’t make me happy like it used to when I was a child. I used to just adore the lights and applause. Now I’m embarrassed when people ask what I’m studying. I always reply “musical theatre,” I’m not sure why, with a goofy look on my face and a shrug on my shoulders. One of the happiest days of my life was when I found other things I could be happy doing. Working with deaf children. Photography. Activist. I just became a vegetarian and I want to stop everyone

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I know from eating meat. I can’t believe I ever ate a being. I digested pain. Now I want everyone to know what they are eating. The castrated cows. The electrified fish. The chemically injured chicken. How do people live with themselves? For someone who always knew what she wanted to be, I am so unsure where I am going. I do not know what I want. There is something around the corner from me. I keep walking toward it, but never reach it. I don’t know if I ever will. I think that’s why I wake up in the morning. I have so many questions about me, you, us. My journey is to ask my questions. I am shallow.

• 324 • In high school, senior year, I would leave school and visit my mother at work just across the street. This went on for month until I showed up and she wasn’t there. I asked around and I was informed that she was taken to the hospital with a stomach flu. I rushed over to the hospital, finding her sitting in a wheelchair resting in a corner. When I approached her, she was sweating and holding one of those plastic banana containers issued by the hospital. I figured it was used for any vomit she might need to catch. There was something I noticed that day that forever sticks in my mind. The top three buttons on her shirt were undone, exposing her bra. When I looked at the front of her bra I saw that there was a safety pin holding it together. It seems the bra once had a fastener but since had broken and she replaced it with a safety pin. It dawned on me that my mother would not even buy herself anything to sacrifice for her children. That was a thrilling point in my life because it told me I had no excuses about being a success. If she was willing to forsake everything for me, then I had to do the same for her.

• 325 • I moved here to attend graduate school and I’m still not sure how I feel about it. When I started the application process I was excited to get the hell out of Iowa and leave the Midwest. I’d taken a couple years off to find myself and I felt I’d found what I could and it was time to move on.

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As I was going on visits, my mom’s cancer came back. I rushed home and the next afternoon she died. I realized that I had not really found myself and that I’m not really sure about anything. My mom never knew where I was to move. She never saw my first house and she will never meet her grandchildren and this makes me sad. However, after struggling through all this, I do have a better sense of who I am—although I’m still not sure if it was worth the price.

• 326 • When I turned 21, I went to the bar and met a cute 24 year old German guy. We flirted and agreed to meet for dinner after he was done with work a few days later. He showed up at the restaurant for our date looking dashing and brandishing a Kroger bag. He said he had a surprise for me, but I had to wait for dinner. Inside, he started the conversation: “For work, I do internet research, so I look you up…” he had written down the times for races I had run, when and where; poetry that others with my name had written; high school info, sports articles, and “your records.” I thought he’d hacked into the school system to find my grades, but really he had found my online journal from my studies in France, where I mostly wrote stories of crashing my bike into different bushes and trees. He felt it was important enough to take notes and read them back to me. I then pretended for another half hour that he wasn’t totally creepy and made some small talk over mediocre pizza. He felt we should go dutch, so I split the bill, and then he revealed his grand Kroger-bag surprise: eight packets of photos. “I went to Thailand last year; I’ve also been to South Dakota. What do you want to see first?” We had discussed neither, nor travel. I chose Thailand. Somehow he managed to grope my breast and thigh before the night was over. I’m still not sure how that happened. That was the last I ever saw of him, although I did get a hopeful email invite the next day.

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• 327 • I feel like I’m in hibernation. The winter is so long here. It’s been winter for two and a half months, with at least two still to go. My body feels stiff, my head feels like it’s full of cotton. I cry daily. I know a guy who hasn’t cried since the summer. It seems strange that we could be the same species. The molecules in my body are yearning for a first breath of air. That first day in the spring, when you take off your jacket and go for a walk, when I can open my bedroom window. It’ll still be too cold for that, really, and I’ll have to sleep still curled up in a quilt, but it will be so worth it to smell fresh air. I’ll uncurl, my skin will relax. The lakes will melt and call to us teenagers to take our clothes off and jump in. My hands will get softer, my feet will get tougher. The nights will get warmer. When I dance I’ll be sticky with sweat, but stretching is better when it’s hot anyway. I won’t have to worry about school (but if I’m being honest with myself, I probably will anyway). I’ll stay up late, ride my bike everywhere, get tan. My ankles, my knees, my neck will be full of little puffs of air. I’ll sing along with the radio. It’ll be all the better because I’ll know another February is coming, so I’ll savor it. I won’t wish for cold, not when it’s 100 degrees and humid and the AC is broken. Summers aren’t for wishing. Summers are for doing.

• 328 • On Valentine’s Day, my freshman year in high school, my dad had a heart attack. I never realized that I took him for granted until I almost lost him. That day, I realized that you can only live life day by day. Planning won’t help. Life is unexpected. And can take a turn for the worse in the blink of an eye.

• 329 • I want to be special. Really badly. Not special like other people. I want to be a superhero. That may sound weird but it’s the most desperate wish of my heart. I want to shoot fire from my fingertips or fly without wings. Perhaps

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it’s because I feel trapped, like my life is a box that I can’t break out of. I want to take the most awesome ax I can think of and chop that box to pieces. But I can’t, no matter how hard I try. That can across the room won’t lift into the air just because I concentrate really hard. Reality has rules and I am forced to abide by them. It sucks. So I do the next best thing, I immerse myself in a world where I CAN do those things. I watch TV, read books, play video games, read comics, and dive into the internet. And, for a while at least, I am the most amazing thing anyone has ever seen. The mind’s eye is a wondrous thing, but sometimes it’s simply not enough for me. So I became a performer, I sang and acted in school. The thrill of applause is the one thing that compares with my imagination. That is where I am the hero, the villain and anywhere in between; I remake myself just the way I want. Yet it fades. The show ends, and I am thrust into reality again. So I go back to my mind’s eye. I think that normal is overrated. If people want me to be, then TOO BAD. I refuse to be contained. Being a nerd is the most wonderful thing in the world!

• 330 • Today, we had an assembly at school. As I sat down among the other three thousand students in our gymnasium, I realized a disturbing fantasy. Suddenly, the face of everyone around me became a blur and all of I could think of was how beautiful the sight of three thousand dead bodies would be. Bombs could be attached to the bottoms of the bleachers. They might go off as three thousand teenage voices rallied together to spell victory. The irony would add to the ecstasy and my jaw clenched tight as I pictured three thousand lives at my feet. The boy next to me, asking if there was something wrong. Later, I told him what I had felt. He didn’t say very much. There was a lot of awkward silence. There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s just a fantasy.

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• 331 • On the outside I’m a loud, goofy, carefree person. On the inside I’m quite the opposite. I spend 80% of my time thinking about my death or being dead, and how life is too difficult for me to be truly happy. I’ve been in the hospital three times in the past two years for suicide attempts, and have managed to not let anyone find out… I guess what they say is true, you should never judge a book by its cover.

• 332 • I just stopped myself from committing suicide. This is not the first time I’ve seriously considered expediting the whole pushing daisies scenario. I’ve never told anyone I’m that upset with myself and my life. I believe in God and accept Jesus as my personal savior. Just sometime I feel like he put more faith in me than he intended. Figured why not meet him and ask him what the hell he was thinking. But I didn’t. Now I’m here. And listening to The xx. Tomorrow, I’m going to move out of my childhood home and find somewhere else that makes me happy. I need to be happy. We don’t—I’m not sure we deserve anything—but I think I deserve to be happy when I go to sleep for at least a week or two. Maybe I’ll find one of you. We can be happy together.

• 333 • For years I honestly believed that suicide was selfish and I never understood why anyone would feel that way. Now I understand. It’s truly horrific. I still fear death, but it’s the weighing out of life: will anyone care? I am sixteen. I desperately need help.

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• 334 • I rather much don’t enjoy vacuums. They scare junior and send the cat hissing, and where’s the whimsy? I call upon the practicality of brooms. Just listen to that: “broom.” Makes me absolutely giddy, really. Builds arm muscles, entirely silent, won’t kill an innocent spider, and it serves many uses. There’s the “broom” attachment, and the “flaming torch” mode, as well as a katana, a lightsaber, a sword, a limbo stick… really, vacuums stand no chance. I also have accumulated a very distinct opinion on the pen vs. pencil debate… of course, that’s a topic for another day. Thank you for your time.

• 335 • Seeing me today, you would never believe that, just a little over a year ago, I was trying my very best to hang myself from the ceiling of my garage. I was severely depressed and no one, not even my own mother, would listen when I tried to tell them I needed help. I remember practically staggering down the stairs into the bathroom after my mother, in reply to my confession that I believed myself to be depressed, said simply “No, you’re not.” That was what snapped me. For a few weeks I was practically insane. I did my best to torture myself, both physically and emotionally, to the point where I actually had to wait a few days for myself to heal before I could do it again. Then, on January 17th, my cracking shell of a world finally shattered. At the time, I believed the reason I was unable to kill myself that day was simple cowardice. I tore the rope from the rafter and arrived, minutes later, at the home of my church youth minister. She was a woman I barely knew, apart from my brief forced attendance at church every Sunday, and I still don’t know why I went to her. Yet she cared for me that day as if I were her own daughter. I suffered no physical damage from trying to kill myself, yet she and my church pastor took me to a hospital regardless. It turned out to be a good thing they did: my mother arrived fresh from her lab, her face tearstained and eyes begging me—“Why?” That day was the turning point of my life. With the help of my family, therapists, and medication, I am now proud to say that I have never felt

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better than I do every day. After a year and a half of struggle: of crying, screaming, begging, and hoping in a way I had no idea was possible, I have come to the next beginning. Today, I can look back at January 17th as not a curse, but a blessing. It was only as I lay at the bottom that I could finally see the way to the top. Every day, I climb a little closer. And every day, the sun gets a little warmer. Every day is the best day of my life.

• 336 • I am scared that the social isolation that continues to occur in my life is going to make me kill myself. I am not depressed or anxious. In fact I am the opposite of that. I am happy and positive. But with every year the loneliness weighs heavier and heavier upon my soul. I am scared that one day I will no longer be able to carry the burden and I will kill myself as my life is so lonely. It is the voice in the back of my head that whispers. Kill yourself, kill yourself. It scares me.

• 337 • I came home from school one day in the sixties. I was eight years old. My mother met me at the door. My mother never did this. She had news for me. I had committed a Mortal Sin. I apparently needed eye glasses. (Well, duh) I knew full well what a Mortal Sin was—after all, I went to Catholic School on my good mother’s dime. I knew the rules. If I am truly sorry from the bottom of my heart, God will forgive me. “Oh NO, He will NOT.” “God will only forgive you if you exercise your eyes back to the way God gave them to you.” I received a 30 day exercise plan for my eyes. It did not work. I tried to kill myself five different ways. 1. Hoping to be murdered after midnight while walking about town 2. The train (a man grabbed me and said he would tell my parents) 3. Slit my wrists 4. Aspirin 5. I gave up and have been living in hell ever since.

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• 338 • I’m 23 now but for pretty much most of my life I assumed I would die early. Not like I would kill myself more like I just expected to die young and now that I haven’t I find myself extremely disappointed. Now I realize that I’m not going to die early. I don’t know what to do with my life.

• 339 • What has always bothered me is that everyone is fucked. Everyone has problems. Money. Emotional. Relationship. I’ve always thought that my constant struggle with anorexia was enough to make me me. When I tried to kill myself with vicodin flavored vodka in my bathroom only to awaken to the glaring of both the hospital lights and my parents… I thought that was enough to make me different. We are all too much the same. But I’m a little bit more healthy now. Maybe it’s time for me to choose something else, something “sane,” to distinguish me from the rest.

• 340 • I’m 33 and am afraid of death. I quit smoking two days ago and it is so hard. I know that I will go back to smoking, and it will probably kill me sooner rather than later, but I’m so weak.

• 341 • Two years ago, I was raped by my (then) boyfriend. I was 16 and a virgin, he was 18 and not. Last night, I dreamed that I was him, raping myself. I didn’t realize I was hurting myself until I saw the tears running down my face and how tightly I was holding the pillow between us.

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I will never forgive him for what he took from me. I am now in a meaningful relationship, and I can’t share the one thing I would give anything to share with my partner—my innocence. I hope someday he feels the hurt I feel.

• 342 • Today my best friend since middle school told me that she is dating a girl she’d met in college. She’s never expressed an interest in girls before. For probably the first time in my life, I was speechless. I’m still in a daze…

• 343 • I’m 21 years old, and a junior in college. I just transferred to a new college this year. The Saturday before classes started, the first person on campus I managed to meet was a boy, of course. His name was Nick. The moment I met him I knew he was bad news. He’s a mixture of all of my ex-boyfriends in one person. He was definitely someone I should have stayed away from. Yet, from the moment he said hello, I was addicted. We spent three weeks hanging out every spare moment we got. We found our common interest in music. We texted all the time. We were always communicating somehow. One Friday night, we were bored so we decided to drink. He bought the vodka and we sat in the school parking lot in my car. Over the course of a little over an hour, we had finished the bottle of vodka between the two of us. I remember standing outside of my car, talking to him as he smoked a cigarette. It was around 3am. After he finished his cigarette, we started making out against my car. With one hand he opened my car door, and he stuck the other hand down my pants. The next thing I know he’s pushing me into the back seat of my car. I remember pushing him back out of my car, telling him this wasn’t a good idea. I guess I didn’t resist hard enough, because the next thing I know our pants are off, he’s on top of me and inserting himself in me. Sure, it felt good for the five minutes it lasted. Afterwards, we returned to my front seat, me in the driver seat with him in the passenger seat. He kicked back the seat and fell asleep. I stared out the window, with tears rolling

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down my cheeks, listening to the lyrics of Emmure in my stereo, “Oh shit, what the fuck did I just do?!?”…

• 344 • In a week’s time, a friend of mine bought a puppy for his girlfriend, was dumped, and tried to commit suicide. In a day’s time I found this all out at once. In an hour’s time I slept with his ex, effectively betraying him, and my own girlfriend. And it only took a moment’s time to regret it.

• 345 • This year hasn’t been the greatest for me. First, the Haiti earthquake. Second, a friend passed away back at home. Third, I had a painful wake up call from a person I was in a relationship with, who I still care for very much, but he doesn’t feel the same way anymore. The pathetic thing is, it’s been two years and I’ve made no progress in moving on. Hopefully things will change as the year progresses. I wish I knew more about me, my strengths and weaknesses, not physical traits, but the traits deep inside every person that really makes the person who they are now. I have so many questions that need answers, so many mistakes that need to be redeemed, so many things I need to say to people but I simply don’t have the courage to do so. I want to help people in the world. I want to make people’s lives better. I want to teach people what I’m passionate about; music. I wish I could better understand what the less fortunate people are going through everyday. I want to travel all over the world to help people. But I’m only fifteen, what difference can I make?

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• 346 • It’s been seven years, seven damn years since him being gone. It feels as though I’ve got all this anger and regret just building up somewhere deep inside. There have been times when I thought to myself “I could do something right now just to get it over with,” but that’s not me; that’s not what my personality is. There have been days when I think I could just run away from all this; leave this city that reminds me of all those times we spent together, but then I think “where would I go?” I can never bring myself to do something like that. I look at all my friends and think to myself “why did this happen to my family? What did I do to deserve all this?” Yes I’ve seen some of the struggles that my friends have been through, but it doesn’t compare to what I’ve been through, and the sad thing is that they have no idea of what’s going on inside of me, even if I try to explain it to them they won’t understand any of it. Sometimes I wish he was right here to help me in my decisions for life, be there when I need to talk. I’m 19 and I have no damn clue what I want to do with my life. Still living at home with my siblings there are days when I just gotta leave the house. Not to mention how hard it is to explain my feelings to my mom. It’s like we’re on different levels of communication. So as I write this, it has been a little over seven years since my Dad died unexpectedly. And it’s a tough reminder that I will never see him again on this earth. But I know for a fact that there is a plan somewhere in this mess called my life. But as for now it seems as though I am alone.

• 347 • I was 15 years old when it happened. I was hitch-hiking with my friend. We had done this often, hitched into the city from the suburbs via the motor way. We had no other way to do it. So this one day we went into the central city to see a movie; The Terminator. We were given a ride into the city by a former mayor of the town we lived in. He gave us a motivational talk along the way. We saw the movie, it blew our little teenage minds. Then we hitch hiked back to the ‘burbs. I remember getting picked up by a couple of guys in an old Ford. They dropped us off at the bottom of an off ramp. Getting out of the

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passenger side rear door is the last memory I have of that day. My friend had run across the off ramp, he turned around and saw me get hit by a speeding car. The chief neurosurgeon at the hospital advised my family that my death was likely. 24 hours later he told them that I would most likely end up in a permanent vegetative state. I woke up from that coma two weeks later, spent six more weeks in hospital having skin graft operations and recovering, but unable to walk at that stage. Oddly I didn’t break any bones, just chipped a tooth. When I got home my mother showed the correspondence between her and the driver of the car that hit me. I’d been sued by the driver for damages to the vehicle. The debt got paid eventually and I spent the following 10 years recovering from the concussion. Aside from being born I still think of this as the most transformational event of my life, an irreversible moment. Who I was before and who I became was irreversible. If it wasn’t for that accident I would never have spent my adult life pursuing and living my dream.

• 348 • I have had a best friend since we were both 10. I idolized her. I thought she was the kind of person everyone wanted to be. We are now studying abroad together in a foreign city and live together. It is not what I expected at all. She is extremely short-tempered, hates philosophizing, and puts me down. I don’t know whether or not to be sad or happy. Sad because she isn’t exactly who I thought she was… or happy because I am so happy with how I turned out myself. I don’t need to idolize anyone.

• 349 • I’m scared to stand out, but I do it to fit in. When you’re 16 and in high school being original and unique is pretty much how you conform. I strive to be the most average anyone could be; average looks, average grades, average habits. Because of my averageness, I seem to cut everything I do short, just so it will

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be good and not great. As you can imagine none of my relationships have went anywhere because I always managed to screw something up because I just can’t be the best boyfriend. I can’t imagine a future where I actually accomplish anything. All I do is follow. The worst part is I’m OK with it.

• 350 • I sat in a coffee shop and did homework until I was approached by an older gentleman. He doesn’t look 50, he just is. I’m 19. We talked and I missed a class. Turns out, we like each other. I now have a mature boyfriend. Not sure I’ll tell my parents. (He’s a vet.)

• 351 • I read an article the other day about the growing fat epidemic and I had to stop and just stare because I’m part of it. It sounds like a disease, as if we were lepers. I don’t want to be an epidemic, a statistic, or any kind of stereotype. I’m fat and I don’t know how to change. I hate myself to a point that I think about suicide… I think, they won’t miss me… they’ll have more room to move. I’ve never had a boyfriend so he won’t miss me either. I’m never going to be a mother. Never have a husband. I can’t help but think that people are whispering and laughing at me behind my back. I don’t want to continue to look around to make sure no one is staring. I don’t want to worry about what people are thinking when they stare. I don’t want to go shopping with anyone because I’ll just break down and cry if I do. I’m tired of holding back tears… I’m tired of failing… I’m tired of me.

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• 352 • Only one person in the world knows my deepest secrets, and he’s a complete stranger I met last year. Neither of us knows the other’s name, and I don’t regret telling him a thing. My life had been a boring story in which I am trapped in by the people closest to me. I’ve become increasingly arrogant in the most self-conscious way, and am so sick of the fake conversation people feel the need to make in the rich, middle-class neighborhood where I live. I truly feel like there is something big waiting for me somewhere and I just need to break free of the life I currently live in to find it. However, at 17, this is going to be nearly impossible without leaving behind my friends and family. I can’t decide if it would be selfish to do so.

• 353 • To start off I’m 17. Home from a day of working as a lifeguard and less than a week after graduating high school. In September I’m headed off to Savannah, Georgia to attend Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD). I’ve only ever really wanted to be an artist. I know I’ll probably be broke most of my life and at the moment I’m OK with that. I think. At 17 I feel like I don’t have a right to really have problems yet. But I do, just not as big as everyone else’s. I have a scar on my arm that I tell everyone (except my best friend) I don’t know how I got it. Not true. Back in February I had an awful day (but the thing is if it was a weekday this wouldn’t have happened). My best friend (same one from before) had ditched me to hang out with a boy that had been causing problems between us for quite some time. He was hooking up with her but told her not to tell me so that he could hook up with me too. He slept with her and then tried to sleep with me. He treated us both like shit and I never wanted anything to do with him again but she insists on still being friends with him. I felt like my world was crumbling around me. I’ve always bottled things up and this was one of those times it all came out. I’d been struggling with what the hell to do about the situation I found myself in for awhile. So I took my car keys and started scraping one spot over and over again on my arm. It didn’t hurt enough so I got a pair of scissors. I’ve cut myself before but always little cuts that no one would notice. Not this time. Two inches from the center of my arm around the inside. Very

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visible and very obvious what it is. But yet everyone still believes me when I say I don’t know how I got it. Even my mom. I’ve considered suicide before but always stopped myself before seriously thinking about it. I have three younger siblings depending upon me to be a role model. What kind of role model kills herself? Besides I don’t think I’m brave enough to go through with it. How fucked up is that? And it’s not like there’s anything in my life to be particularly sad about. I just don’t want to continue some days. Maybe I’m depressed. Who knows? Can you be depressed for as long as I have and never really done anything other than be sad all the time? Or angry? I’m always angry my friends say. Oh, well. Thanks for doing this project. It really helps. I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.

• 354 • I’m fifteen. I’ve done ecstasy on my last two days of school and I feel like a failure. I lost two of my best friends because of it but it’s the only time I’ve ever been happy. I’m planning on doing it again.

• 355 • Hey, I’m twelve years old. I live in Canada. This is my story. I’m exceptionally gifted. That doesn’t matter. That much. So, in grade five (I’m finishing up grade six now) I had a huge crush on a girl. The basic story, I know. So on a chain email, I found her email address. At this point I was visiting California, I live in Canada. This was also over summer break. So I emailed her, along with a bunch of other contacts. She responded, and we had pretty good conversations. Eventually we added each other on Facebook, and we started talking a lot more. It was great, for a kid like me who at this time was going crazy because of this girl.

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We started talking a lot more, and every once and a while we would see each other in the halls at school. I worked up the guts to tell her that I had feelings for her, and she said that that was fine, but that was it. Eventually she got a cell phone, and we started texting each other. At this time we were pretty good friends. We now text eachother every day, and see each other every school day. It’s great, we’re best friends. But I’m confused; I know that we could never be together, and that it’s not right to have a significant other at 12, but I still have feelings for her. I think… I really don’t know, it’s weird. But yeah, that is my enticing story. Sorry for wasting your time. Have a nice life.

• 356 • Sometimes, I contemplate who I am. Sometimes, I think about killing people or being a really awful person just to think about it. I talk to myself, pretending to be different people in different situations, without even realizing I’m doing it. Sometimes, everything suddenly gets really heavy and I shake and I scratch things, like my arms. Sometimes I think I’ve gone mad. I hate my body so much I have thought about ripping my skin open and pouring out the fat just so I can be happy. I constantly dream about being skinny, like bone-skinny. Every time I look in the mirror I want to claw away my face, my body, everything. I hate it all. I am ridiculously jealous of all my friends because they weigh less than me. I am a 16 year old girl who lives in Bromley, UK. And I think I’ve gone mad.

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• 357 • I’m crazy. I am outside waiting for my friend to come out of the vintage shop that was making me claustrophobic, so I came outside to wait for her. We just came from an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. My friend used to be “a member,” but no longer is. I, today, just for today, am a recovering alcoholic, and I hope to always be this. I will always be an alcoholic, but recovery is never eternally guaranteed. My foot is asleep. I think I might be high from the Iced Cafe Mocha that I just got at Espresso Royale. It’s one high that’s okay for me to indulge in today. I hardly ever am in this city. I am here tonight because I am trying to push through the fear of bumping into my ex downtown. My friend, who is with me, shares my same issue of possibly seeing her ex here. We are battling our fears side by side tonight. Us against the world, or at least downtown.

• 358 • I like my best friend better on AIM

• 359 • Last year, I was going to meet a friend at the bus stop at night. He has a very distinctive walk, so I thought I’d spotted him approaching. When he slipped on the icy road I burst into hysterical laughter, but to make matters worse I also punctuated this by screaming “YOU ATE IT! I SAW YOU! I can’t believe you wiped out like that!” The embarrassed figure approached—it was not my friend. I didn’t say a word.

• 360 • One night, after making friends with a few beers, I went out to the backyard, past all the other party guests, to relieve myself. My blurry vision wasn’t very apparent until the patch of ground I was peeing on began to waddle off around a tree. I peeked around to see a sleepy-looking opossum staring

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back at me, sprinkled with my urine. Considering the aggressive reputation sometimes associated with opossums, I’m counting my blessings and trying to not think of what he could have bitten.

• 361 • I’m 19 years old, tall, blonde, blue eyes and way too outgoing for my own good! I spend a ton of time in A2 and work at a daycare full time. I have parents that are way too strict and friends that are way too crazy, but I need change. I need something new—here’s why! I have a two o’clock curfew and I have gone by that for the past year. Three days ago I get home twenty minutes late after having called a half hour before telling my parents I was going to be late. I get home and here’s how the conversation went: Dad: Why are you late? Me: My friend’s ride got drunk and left him in Ann Arbor. Dad: How the hell is that your problem. Me: He is my friend. Dad: Well, he shouldn’t be anymore. I want you home every day at 9:30pm. Me: I’m almost 20, hell no. Dad: Then find a new place to live. So that’s what I’m going to do. It’s scary upsetting and I have no idea what’s going to happen, but look for me in Florida where the sun is always out and it never snows. Michigan is no good anyway.

• 362 • I am scared to death that I will not get into graduate school and my life will amount to nothing. Other than that, things are going alright. I’m working for ten cents more than minimum wage and am barely making ends meet. I spend too much money on coffee and lattes. But I finally feel like I’m in a semi-functional relationship, which makes everything else seem OK. In a year,

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I will be leaving to some unnamed destination for the Peace Corps, but it’s far enough away that I’m still enjoying my time in Ann Arbor with my friends.

• 363 • I am forgetting names, dates, people. I am having terrible headaches. My friend, who is dating someone who has cancer, says I need an MRI. I am too poor to get one.

• 364 • I really have every reason in the world to be happy. I’m going to go to an ivy league university. I have a great family, wonderful friends, but I’m not happy. There’s something missing and I have no idea what it is or if I’m ever going to find it. Last week, when I was looking through our storage room, I found a tattered yellow book marked ‘private,’ so, of course, I read it. It was my mom’s diary from when she was my age. I took it and I read it every night. I thought I knew my mom, I’m really close with her but as I read through her darkest fears and deepest secrets I realized that I don’t know her at all. Maybe this is how to fill the empty space: to keep searching for new meanings in what you think you know. I hope I can learn something new about what I know every day.

• 365 • I used to let people define who I was. I dated someone who led me to ignore other friends and my family. He then broke my heart, but I realized who I am is not what someone else makes me, or what they think I should be. I found myself and I know in my heart I am better off now. I found someone new, and whether it works or not, doesn’t define who I am. Knowing who I am is the best feeling in the world.

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• 366 • I’m finding a lot of trouble when it comes to trusting the people who are closest to me. My family, my best friends, my boyfriend. I have more trust in someone I most likely will never see again, all they have of me is that one encounter. I think trusting someone you don’t know with your feelings and thoughts is a lot more safe than someone who knows you and your life. I don’t like the way I feel about trust and I think it will change over time. I hope so, at least. I think that’s why I’m writing this.

• 367 • I broke up with my amazing boyfriend of two years because I could no longer answer the question what I wanted for my life. Loving him made me forget myself, and I was blinded. I’m worried that I’ll figure out what I want one day, and that I might have wanted him all along.

• 368 • He is my best friend. I want to make him smile, tell him he means the world to me. I feel safe with him. I don’t want to ever lose this feeling. That is why I refuse to date you. I do not know what I would do if I lost you.

• 369 • I’m happy to be alive to share my story. Five years ago, at the age of fifty, I was diagnosed with colon cancer. I’d had absolutely no symptoms, so I was shocked, as you can imagine. I had surgery a week after diagnosis and it went well. Then it went to hell. I suffered with a necrotic bowel; the colon developed clots, I was infected, and three surgeries and a week-long coma later, I was alive, but not sure I wanted to be. Long story made short, I’ve had more than twelve surgeries. I take nutrition through TPN—a bag that drips into a vein 12 hours a day. I can only drink clear liquids, but was thrilled to be allowed to add white wine into my diet.

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Life is good. I’ve been supported by family and friends, and have discovered more friends than I knew I had. I have lost a few too—some people can’t handle the change. It sounds corny, but as my dad would always say, “Each day above ground is a blessing.”

• 370 • I am a 24 year old Latina that never really dated and never had a boyfriend. I was the only virgin left in my circle… then I met him. My younger guy. 23 and also a virgin. I knew it was meant to be. I know, I didn’t know they existed.

• 371 • I met my boyfriend when we were five years old. He moved in across the street. When we were seven, we were sitting in my basement looking at my mom’s books. There was one on female anatomy, and Nick (the now boyfriend but then best friend) told me he knew that girls had “chinas.” I was quick to correct him and tell him that girls had vaginas, and all the other information my seven year old self knew. At age seven, I taught my now boyfriend what a vagina was.

• 372 • Last year I got involved with someone as my long term relationship began to fall apart. It didn’t go very far, we never “cheated,” just mild flirtations. When my relationship died, the flirtation and I got serious all too fast, and we ended up sleeping together. That night, he was smoking a cigarette while I curled up alone on the couch. He slept with his back to me, and in the freezing room I curled up against his back for warmth. The next morning he waited for me to leave. I felt so empty. When I got home, I took the hottest shower I’ve ever taken and tried to burn the smell of him off my skin. When I got out, I had one new text message:

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“Hey, I had fun, but I think I’m going to get back with my ex-girlfriend. Sorry, we can just be friends.”

• 373 • So, my boyfriend of forever and ever just broke up with me. More like, it was mutual but I don’t want to admit that I had anything to do with it. I’d rather be the victim, but at some point I have to admit that I have been selfsabotaging our relationship for a couple of months. I just don’t have the guts to break someone’s heart. I’ve dated one guy or another for five years straight and really do NOT know how to be single. Here’s to hoping I don’t wake up in a stranger’s bed this weekend.

• 374 • I never really want to grow up and I cling to irresponsibility and childish things. The real world is stressful, wouldn’t you rather watch some cartoons and just relax? I like a lot of things I probably shouldn’t and my girlfriend reminds me everyday. There is nothing wrong with ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,’ professional wrestling, or ‘Star Wars.’ Period.

• 375 • I got sick and it caused nerve damage in my spine. I used to be in a wheelchair and now I walk with a cane. My usual nickname amongst my friends is “cripple.” My disease is curable and has been slowly waning over the years. I’ve been the cripple for 1/3 of my life, But one day I won’t be crippled anymore. Will I still feel the same identity when that happens? Will I still be Sarah the cripple, or someone else?

• 376 • I am twenty years old. I have everything anyone could want. A nice car, great parents, a wonderful boyfriend, and a free college ride. I have everything yet I am constantly sad. I always feel as though I don’t deserve what I have.

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I don’t know why my friends like me and I don’t know why people want to be around me. Sometimes in life money makes no difference in your life.

• 377 • A friend was traveling in Asia and on the side of a bar in Katmandu he saw some graffiti that read “he who travels alone waits for no man” and it inspired me. I have missed so many sites in so many countries because I was restrained by the people I was traveling with. So I went and I booked a trip on my own, just four days to start with. To make sure I could deal with being alone in a foreign country before I committed myself to a longer trip. I went and I was fine… I was so proud of myself negotiating the foreign streets and never really getting lost. Do you want to know the lesson I learned from my trial run… he who travels alone may wait for no man but he will also be bored out of his tiny little skull.

• 378 • I left my home country because I wanted to see more of the world after staying in my home town for too long. I ended up on the other side of the world to stay here for months and months but realized that everything I have at home is way better than everything else. I have great friends and a great family. I also met a girl I wanted to get to know better right before I left and I now spend a lot of my day just thinking of her. We’re trying to keep connected and I hope we’ll spend a lot of time together once I get home. It scares me that she might find someone else while I’m gone… If you don’t risk anything, you won’t gain anything… Everyone should travel for a longer period of time to learn to appreciate what they have.

• 379 • I am only 18 years old and nine days ago my best friend passed away. She lost control of her car and went into the ditch, she wandered up into the street and was hit by a car. She passed away on Valentine’s day. I can’t decide which is worse; having to go through life without my best friend, or living my life with this blame I feel since I let her try to drive home that night.

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• 380 • My boyfriend is amazing: he is good in bed, incredibly thoughtful, smart, faithful, willing to change anything for me, and all too literally perfect. I hate him because I have dreams that he hates me.

• 381 • I worked at a detention home in New York, trying to make the world a better place. In less than two years I knew I would never make a difference. I packed up, left New York and went to school in Florida to work with zoo animals. Since I graduated, I got engaged, broke a heart, obtained more debt than I’d like to think about, met my best friend and introduced more people to animals and their hardship in the wild than can be counted. I finally feel like I may be making a difference. Now my best friend moved away, and I’m not sure I want to do this anymore.

• 382 • I’m sitting here wondering why I do the things I do. I got drunk with some friends of mine and wound up sitting in a chair at the tattoo parlor. Now, every time I look down and see porky pig looking back up at me I hate myself a little more.

• 383 • So there’s this girl I have been attracted to since freshman year. We messed around and stayed in touch. We decided to live together with my two other friends. We have to hide that we are dating/sleeping together, because it would cause some awkward tensions because we are all females.

• 384 • I recently realized that I met my soul mate six years ago. We only dated for a couple of months, but have remained friends ever since.

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He describes the girl he’s with now as perfect. It breaks my heart every time I hear it.

• 385 • I am 2.5, 34C, 120, and 5’3. My GPA, bra size, weight, and height all in numeral value stand as my name as I go about my life. But she, the other side of me, is a woman. I am a singer, a poet, a hidden beauty and a natural comedian, but who cares? Numbers are what define me, NOT synonyms because numbers are easy and quick. 7– Boys I’ve kissed. Obviously this number varies from person to person because I only confide in select individuals with certain details on my promiscuous lifestyle. I am also a Muslim girl who, by Islamic law, would be absolutely shamed because I put myself out in a light that shined the word ‘freedom’ on me. I wear the head scarf but don’t want to—my parents forced me. But I don’t give a shit because living a double lifestyle is so much easier. Rambles and a jumble of thoughts are what would rule the book of my life. Every day I write an invisible page, embedded in my mind and embroidered in my heart. My story, my struggles, and my sorrows remain hidden to those who know me personally, but to you, friendly stranger, you are my best friend. Because my story is yours.

• 386 • I’m only doing this to prove something to my girlfriend.

• 387 • Three weekends ago I had a threesome with my roommate and her boyfriend. Check that one off the list.

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• 388 • I have wasted the last five years of my life. I am almost 25 and have nothing to show for it. I have spent more time in hospitals than learning anything and I am so sick of fighting mental battles every day. I worry about getting older because I want to be young forever. I want to go back to when I was little and people cared for and about me. I have lost all of my friends, we got separated somewhere along the line, our differences became too apparent. They work, study, date and party, I sit at home alone because I am too scared to go anywhere. I hate what I have become, I am covered in scars and I cannot stop hurting myself, because I do not care about myself. I take so many different medications every day, I feel like a zombie and I still see and hear things which aren’t real. I don’t know how to tell my family that I want to be dead. I feel like I have exhausted every other option. I want to be able to tell them that I am so sick of everything and that I cannot keep fighting myself. I wish I could color in pictures all day.

• 389 • Jubal was my best friend. He was six. I was twelve. Jubal was a tabby cat. Orange & White. We had conversations. “I got an A+ on my social studies test!”

“Meow.”

“I’m having a rough time with shin splints!”

“Meow.”

“Tell me about your day!”

“Meow.”

Jubal would sit on my tummy when I was having girl problems. He would watch me get ready for school in the morning. Jubal peed on my bed once

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when I took a week vacation to Arizona for Christmas break. We slept together every night. We complained together. When I was in track, Jubal mysteriously began to gallop through the house randomly. My senior year, Jubal got sick. I came home one day to find him wheezing at the foot of my bed. I held him in his last moments. Then we both began new lives.

• 390 • “Just Go.” Those two words have been haunting every moment of my life for the past four years and seven months. Three of my best friends are dead because of those two words. I said those two words. I am responsible for their deaths and no one will ever be able to convince me otherwise. I wish I had died with them that night. “Follow my lead.” Those three words have been keeping me going for the past three years and 11 months. Eight people, including three children are alive today because of those words. I am responsible for saving the lives of eight strangers I had never met before that day. Afterwards a woman who was thanking me and crying uncontrollably asked me my name. The only thought I had was of the two words that took my friend’s lives, I couldn’t answer her my name because I was terrified that if two more words came out of my mouth that I would doom them all. I walked away from eight grateful strangers without saying more than three words. I was going to kill myself that night. Those eight people saved my life. I’ve never told anyone about this.

• 391 • Life story? None. Interesting, admirable, unique feats which I can confidently say I am proud of? Nonexistent. I wonder if this is who I am, part of me, or if deprecation is just a word. I hate myself. Which is the problem, and all

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at the same time the source of the problem. I feel it is immature, therefore I am a terrible waste of human life. I feel that my masochism makes other people hold hostility and frustration to me, therefore I am a terrible waste of human life. I feel that my problems are petty and pathetic compared to the compelling stories I find and bury myself in. I have never had a girlfriend or been kissed, and as much as I hate to care, I wonder; Am I really unlovable? And then I remind myself that it’s stupid, I’m just being an asshole, and go about my life (or lack thereof).

• 392 • I want to be one of those girls who have it all put together. I want to not care about what anyone thinks. I want my hair to be perfectly messy all the time. I want to listen to the greatest music and the hippest concerts. I want to have the funniest friends and the best boyfriend. I just want to be happy.

• 393 • I just turned 21, have an amazing boyfriend, and after majorly fucking up my freshman year at college, have really gotten my shit together and am doing really well in school. But my best friend who helped me through everything started doing drugs and has an addiction to pain pills, cocaine, oxies and anything she can get her hands on. I have tried everything to help her, but she does not seem ready or willing to get help. She has recognized that she has a problem but won’t do anything about it. She is also very flakey and I get frustrated with her because I go out on a limb for her all the time and care more than anyone and she just makes excuses and apologizes a million times claiming that she will “make it up to me.” Well, I have had it and I am finally ready to let go of her, as much as I want to help and be there for her… I can’t. She is bringing me down, and I don’t want to be around to watch her hit rock-bottom because it would kill me. I just want my best friend back…

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• 394 • Sometimes I hope that I’ll find out I have melanoma again. I had it once before, when I was 15, but I only needed surgery, no extra hospital time, no drugs to cure it. Just some tissue and lymph nodes taken out. Sometimes I hope that it will come back and it will be stronger and I’ll need more than just surgery to cure it. Maybe then I’ll be able to admit I had cancer.

• 395 • Being only 16, growing up in the USA has been completely different for me than it was for previous generations. I think the main difference is that I don’t see what’s so great about America. I don’t even see why it’s all kept together as one country instead of four or five different ones. I didn’t grow up with landing on the moon, liberating Europe, or the Civil Rights movement. I’ve grown up with the War on Drugs, War on Terror, and the Culture War. That last one, you just know that one day it’s going to turn into a shooting war. Maybe the USA will split up into the four or five different countries it really is. One thing’s for sure, this country we’re in sure as hell isn’t the same one as the old folks remember.

• 396 • I’m 15 years old, I’m going to be a Junior in high school next year. I have plenty of friends, but the thing I want most in life is a father. He lives across the country and he pretends to care, but I don’t know if he does. I try too hard to be liked, I can’t control myself. I do drugs and drink alcohol because it makes me more secure with myself. I want to do something good for myself, but nothing comes to mind. So, I sit around all day on my computer ditching class and hanging out with my friends.

• 397 • I have no clue what I am doing with my life, I go to school because I don’t want to end up like my parents—Broke. My dad was a drug addict. I wasn’t abused or anything, I just thought of it as a normal thing, which is fucked, right? So the drugs gave him motivation to quit his amazing job because he

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believed he could open up his own trading company out of the country and he was gonna make big money. I’ve been waiting eight years for this to happen. To live with us again, my mom has it the hardest now with my brother being a drug addict. It’s quite funny cause my parents gave me the best they could. I never felt like I missed out, but in some ways I do. My dad has not lived with me since I was 12, always limited amount of time with him and my mom is moving to where he is now, she is slowly going crazy here. I wish my dad would come back and my mom would come back and I wouldn’t have to live alone. I wish I new what I was doing.

• 398 • My friends and I started playing World of Warcraft in the middle of one of the most important years of our high school careers. Just about two months later, we realized that our schoolwork is gradually declining in quality, we were staying cooped up at home, and we just went through the days so we can play again. I guess this is what you might call an addiction, and even if it seems like nothing compared to other addictions such as drugs or alcohol, it is still a very real and very harmful addiction. We have decided to stop this madness, to try and get out and socialize, but after two months of playing, it seems like almost an impossible feat. For those of you playing online games such as World of Warcraft, realize there is an infinite universe, waiting for you to just get out there. God Bless.

• 399 • I was taken away from my mom when I was five because she chose to be on drugs rather than to have me in her life. I have never met my dad, so when I needed a place to stay my uncle took me and adopted me. However he was an alcoholic and was both emotionally and physically abusive. When money was getting tight and he couldn’t afford taking care of my step sister and brother he went to my aunt for help. She took me away from him when I was 11. This isn’t everything I have been through, however, I am a genuinely happy person. I have a positive outlook on life. And although what happened

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to me was sad I don’t dwell on the past because it has shaped me to be the 18 year old I am today. Life is too short not to live.

• 400 • I’m nineteen. Lost my father out-of-the-blue at thirteen… I was never really a social kid, I was spoiled, and while I would say that my father’s death made me lose that spoiled personality, it devastated my ability to socialize. I have not had one steady female friend, perhaps due to my physique, social skills, or a combination of both. I have never had a girlfriend nor kissed a girl. I avoid confrontation at all costs, I minimize my displeasure by capping my pleasure incredibly low. I reject people before they reject me. I have four steady friends, none of which go to my college, so I drown myself in work and earn the respect of my professors. If I had a single person to talk to, I would be infinitely more happy but whenever I try, I can’t make it happen. I don’t drink nor do drugs, since that is what killed my father. I reject anyone that does any of that stuff, unfortunately that is 90% of my college, and the other 10% are just as anti-social as me. If I didn’t have my mother, I don’t know what I would do. I love ya mum.

• 401 • I’m waiting for my life to start. Sure, I’ve done and seen an incredible amount for my modest 16 years. I’ve traveled all over the western hemisphere; I’ve experienced some of the most extravagant and luxurious commodities that the world has to offer. My parents earned their own money, sent me to an excellent school, and let me be myself for the most part. Or so they claim. Yes, they let me take art courses and don’t mind that I’m not a straight-A, AP-class-taking, mechanically-rigorous academic student. That much, they will allow me. Yet I yearn for more. So I quietly rebel. I do drugs for the hell of it. Now, my parents grew up in the ‘70s, but they’ve turned so white-bread that they’ve lost any semblance of the excitement of their youth. I lie to them, a lot. I sneak around with boys. I don’t do my

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homework. I get involved in punk-rock and radical political circles, and I do volunteer work, all of which they disapprove of. They’re so conservative that they’re stifling me under a blanket of silk and gold so that I can’t be exposed to the raw realness of the world… And I crave that rawness.

• 402 • 19 years. The amount of time I’ve lived in this world. In this time I’ve been heart broken four times, I’ve broken a person’s heart 10 times, and I’ve lost two of my closest friends ever because I cannot make decisions. My best friend recently called me a drug addict because I do not understand how to cope with college life… I wonder if it’s really true. Will this be my life, repeating over and over again for the next some odd years? My biggest fear is re-living the shitty times and not learning from my mistakes. But I feel like I do learn, it’s the people around me that don’t, or maybe it is truly me. If I change myself I’m scared I will get lost in the process and there might be no return. What if I do turn to drugs to alleviate my suffering? I want to kill myself sometimes, but I cannot do something that bad to my family, to leave them grandchild-less. When will I stop living for them and start living for myself?

• 403 • I will not fit those shoes I am expected to wear. I will not and refuse to be like my father. I will not keep abusing drugs like he, and I will stand on my own two feet and become something so unexpected. This face may be a resemblance to his, but my actions will not. This is what I engrave into my brain everyday so I don’t go back to picking up the familiar pleasure. It’s hard and I have slipped and no one knows, but I will make it.

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• 404 • Sometimes I wish that I had a disorder of some kind… or an addiction just so I would constantly know that people in my life were worried about me… I’ve tried being anorexic and bulimic but I love food too much… I’ve tried drinking a lot and doing a lot of drugs… but I can’t pull myself to become my father with his drug addiction… I just want to know every day that I am loved and that people worry about me.

• 405 • I woke up today to realize I preferred the life I had in my dreams more than the life I woke up too. I’m going to change my life but it worries how long it will take until I’m happy as when I’m asleep. Drugs help.

• 406 •

When I was eighteen… I thought I knew everything. I knew that I had lots of friends, I knew my parents were stupid, I knew I was going to college to live it up and drink it down. I would read inspirational quotes and books and think it was a crock of shit. I’m now two months away from 21. Since then, I’ve fallen in love, I’ve fallen out of love, I’ve met many many people, I’ve done drugs I’ve never done, I’ve lost weight, I’ve changed my attitude toward life, I’ve learned that life is a series of lessons that affect our mental growth. Every time something bad happens, I force myself to smile, to find some joy out of every single situation. Currently, I have never been more happy with the way my life is going. I believe there is a reason why we as humans have the ability to choose positivity vs. negativity. Why do we have the choice to be kind or hateful toward people?

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Why can we choose to smile or frown? There is a universal truth and reason that rewards the goodness we bring to the life we are so generously given. I don’t believe in the bible, I don’t follow any religion… I believe in what I believe and that has made all the difference in my life. Life is so beautiful.

• 407 • I’ve lived on the streets for five years now, surviving by begging and selling drugs. I try to be the best person I can, but I’ve made my fair share of mistakes.

• 408 • I am a 21 year old male who is fairly normal in most regards, besides the fact that I’m a recovering heroin addict. I’ve been trying to “stay clean” for the last five years and only have been successful for about two years of it. About three months ago I left inpatient rehab, the fifth of my career. I’m not sure how I’ve survived this long, I’d always planned on being dead before I turned 21, that way I didn’t have to worry much about the consequences of my actions. It was nice for awhile, living recklessly got me into many interesting situations. Unfortunately my plan failed, seeing that I’m writing this right now. But I have an amazing family and although at times I am rather indifferent to being alive, if I no longer were it would be something my family would have to deal with every single day. Now I realize that the “easy way out” is not an option. I’ve lived in a “transitional living” environment in Ann Arbor for the last three and a half months and life has gotten better. I realize how terrible this all sounds and that I should be grateful to be alive. To talk like this is insulting to all the people out there whose lives were tragically cut short, all those who didn’t have a choice. But why write this if I’m not going to be honest? This book and the idea behind it is important for that reason. Anonymity makes it easy to be honest, to put into words what is really going on with us, instead of telling everyone who asks that we’re “fine.” Lately I’ve been struggling with the fact that I have to deal with this addiction. It’s not the first time of course but the first time in awhile, anyways. I can’t help but crave being “normal.” Along with not doing dope, it’s a requirement that I

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abstain from all chemicals along with an early curfew. I often feel that I’ve been dealt an unfair hand. I’m not talking exclusively about my living situation but rather my entire situation—living the last five years constantly hurting everyone who loves me, dedicating all my time and energy to drugs, whether actively using or trying not to. I’ve missed out on so much, which is why I’ve recently been frustrated and unhappy, I spend a lot of my time walking around downtown observing all the students, having the “college experience” and they seem to have it made. I can’t help but dwell on the fact that I should be one of them, it seems I’ve lost myself over the years consumed by how “different” I am. I can’t imagine how whiny and self absorbed I must sound. I try not to be, a lot of the time I’m able to accept my circumstances I mean despite the way I feel about them, they’re not going to change. So I can either just accept it and deal with it, because being miserable is easy, anyone can do it. Life’s too short, and we only get one shot at it so might as well make the best of it. I feel much better.

• 409 • I was born in Cali. When I was 18 I moved to Michigan. The most fucked up thing happened: a completely different lifestyle than I was used to. I was used to rude people. Now there was no real beaches. Nothing to do but drugs. So that’s how my life got fucked. I started shooting the H-Bomb and ruined my life. Five years later I hit my bottom and decided to change and get sober. I decided to stop looking at all the things there wasn’t to do but instead the things I could do to make me happy. Two years later I am sober and never happier.

• 410 • Today I am a month sober. I am shaking as I open my rehab diary for the first time since leaving. This time is different. It’s the longest I’ve been sober in three years. Three fucking years. This is part of my Detox Diary: Fuck, my limbs are stretching trying to detach from my torso. I’d be better off without them. One less thing to fucking ache. I can’t stay still, my entire body is paralyzed in pain. I snuck my phone in and sat there compulsively calling some prayer hot line number I saw on a bumper sticker. The man at

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the other end rushes through a sonnet. I can barely understand the scrambled words, but I heard my name at various times between the rubble. I dragged myself to the nursing station begging for more Suboxone. I sat in the bathroom and stared in the mirror for the first time. My pupils were big. They handed me sheets explaining the shit that was wrong with me—some self help sort of thing. Stating the obvious. It’s not like I came from a bad family. I lived a suburban middle class dream childhood. Somewhere down the line I fell into loneliness and into love with drugs. I’m not hungry. I feel foggy. Like waking from an eternal slumber. I spend more time in my head and less time socializing. Everyone around me seems high on meds. The alcoholics treat this place like a social vacation resort— hiding out in the smoking pavilion. My veins are too fucked to draw blood. It’s sick and satisfying. I’m escorted to the lab in order for the pros to suck some blood from those fuckers. To others I look like a disaster. Today I showered and put on a mask of makeup. I smiled and said hello. I screamed FUCK in my head. My cuticles are bloody and picked. The veins in my hand are fucked. Purply blue fucked. A reminder. The only thing to do around here is smoke. I went in a non-smoker and came out with a pack a day habit. Last time I was here I saved up the money my parents gave me and spent it on junk when I got out. This time all the money goes to cigs. They are saving my life. Sitting in rehab buzzed on Suboxone & psych meds. I once let a crack head My therapist gave me some first step thirty page packet. They want me to fill it out in excruciating detail. Fuck. I can’t even talk about it let alone scratch it on paper. Make it permanent.I can’t even make it a week without using. I can’t allow myself to speak. I guard the things that hurt me. I scratch away at the walls of my brain trying to get out trying to find a way out. I want to be confident. I want to scream what I feel—confront the ones who piss me off. Explain my past with dignity and peaceful understanding. I lack all of that. I come off as some stand-offish bitch junkie. I’m skipping class right

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now. I might explode into tears. I think of all the times I almost died. Three times I OD’d and I’m still alive. Either I’m supposed to be here and follow some divine path or there was a great mistake. What is my purpose and how did I stray so far from my path? Can I wake up and escape the depressive freak out places? I don’t think so. I’m not ready. The love for myself is gone as gold. I’m stuck and I’ll learn to deal. The words here I haven’t taken to heart. I’m a skeptic. Always a skeptic. Brains splattered all over the wall in his pretty mansion in Bloomfield Hills. It finally got to him. I just want to fuck or smoke or drink or preferably all three and more. I stare at people, men and women, in group therapy and rate them on a scale of who I would fuck first. I am a producer of excess and impulse. Let me use. Let me die. I am so tired.

• 411 • About once a week I go and visit a man in his early fifties. He is, I think, the saddest man in the world. After years of drugs and alcohol in the 70s, he had a very sour relationship with his mother. He left for the army without mentioning a word to her. The army helped to clean him up, but sadly very few of his issues started before the army. Hepatitis from a tattoo in Korea, a cheating wife, a liver transplant, and two of his three wonderful boys dying in an instant has driven him into a state of constant sorrow. Going to see him is rarely fun or uplifting, I usually leave with a lump wedged in my throat and a pitiful twenty he forces me to take for moving firewood. It is usually a chore to go visit, something I only do for his sanity. With a second failing liver and a very bitter sweet dream home, every visit is more sad than the last; it seems that every day his stomach is bulging more and his face is more tired. There is nothing I can ever do to cheer him up, let alone keep a smile for more than a few minutes. There isn’t much I can do for the saddest man in the world, besides sit and give him someone to talk to.

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• 412 • I hadn’t seen or spoken to my mother for more than six months when she died. I hadn’t lived with her for more than three years. I was eighteen, three days into a vacation in the same state that she lived in, just three hours away from her, when I got the call. My friend and I were stuck in the middle of the road going to an apartment—her car shut off and we were waiting for help. I threw up. I spent the next two weeks and all of my vacation money driving all over Florida, signing consent forms and talking to coroners and cops. She died of a drug overdose made possible by a dirty doctor who was “treating” her for a painful disease she didn’t have. She paid him in cash for every prescription he wrote. Only one family member came down to be there. She was cremated. We had a small memorial service, during which my great aunt allowed twelve of my mother’s closest drug dealers to come into her house, get drunk, steal her prescriptions and my cigarettes, and eat all her food. Afterward, my family member went back to Illinois, and I left my great aunt’s house and flew back to NYC. I left her remains with my oldest friend, in the back of her closet. It took almost another six months before she bothered to send them to my family members in Illinois. When we got them, we dumped them into an unnamed river. I cried. I’m 20 now. I can’t stop thinking about that time. She had been on drugs since I was 10 years old. I have called 911 more than thirteen times to have her stomach pumped. I had been in five major car accidents, including smashing into the side of a semi at 40 mph and rolling a car twice end over end and three times side over side down an embankment and hitting a tree due to her drug-impaired state. I had been waiting for her to die for almost ten years. She ruined my vacation.

• 413 • I am scared of myself… I don’t want to grow up to be like my father and it scares the crap out of me. I am in a relationship and I want to be able to trust not only him but myself. I have been hit before… never bruised but I have been physically and mentally broken down. I know that I am like my father, I am extremely proud and my father uses that against me—as a minor I can not speak out. The person I am dating, I want to love them—but I don’t

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think that I am capable of love. I have seen my mother get broken down and he says he loves her. She will never leave. I know that she won’t. Be it this person now, or a person in the future—I do not think that I will be able to love them in the way that they deserve. I don’t want to be like my father… I’m scared of my father… and I believe that I am the same type of person… so I am scared of myself. I know that I am completely messed up mentally and I know that my reasons for fearing myself are stupid and illogical but I can not wrap my head around the possibility that I might be a better person that my father. To anyone else out there who doubts their person, don’t. I know I am a hypocrite for saying this but you are worthy of love and if you let yourself love you will love more than you would think possible. Have a good life, love those who deserve it… don’t stay by those who don’t. Stay away from people like my father, and myself.

• 414 • I have a nickname that I go by more than my real name. Outside of my family there is really only one person that calls me Maria anymore, and it’s someone I don’t even like that much. Hardly anyone knows my real name. Most of my friends don’t remember it if they ever knew it. It’s what I respond to and have seriously been considering legally changing my name to Trigger. The funny thing is… that’s not me. And I love that no one knows the real me. When I moved to college, I changed, a lot. Drugs and alcohol became my world. Nothing horribly strong but enough to make my memory suck so bad I sometimes struggle to remember everyday things like to do my laundry. My new friends wouldn’t know what to do with the real me. The real me is the kind of person my new friends “don’t associate with” for whatever reason. The good kid, the Christian who goes to church every weekend. They know me as Trigger the Player, or The Poonslayer. I hate those names and this lifestyle so much. But at the same time… I love it. There is the possibility of disappearing at any moment and reinventing myself. I just have to figure out what I would rather be.

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• 415 • I grew up going to Disney World every year that I can remember. A few here and there we’d go to the Caribbean, Aruba, or Vermont. But mostly Disney. My parents were never affectionate in front of us, if they were at all I didn’t know about it. I didn’t see my dad much, he was a workaholic driven by money. I knew that he loved me, but he didn’t know how to show it in the way a little kid needs. That vulnerable “I’ll do anything for you” forever kind of love. I have memories of constant yelling and fights. I have this one where I’m hiding behind a chair in our living room as my mom is screaming in the kitchen, breaking every breakable dish that we own so my dad could find it when he got home. My mom told me that was a dream. I went to a Catholic school where nothing bad ever seemed to happen, so we always held it together in public. My dad (who had taken metabolife all of his adulthood in hopes of living longer) had heart problems, and the night before his first open heart surgery, he didn’t come home until 5am… claimed he was at a bar. They divorced shortly after, when I was 13, the month before my best friend moved across the country. He cheated on her with a woman he worked with. Being a ‘divorced kid’ was fun at first. Two houses, distracted parents. I got away with a lot when I was at my dads. I ran with a bad crowd, got into weed. A few nights a week for at least a year I’d have friends over to my dad’s to smoke pot on our back deck, or in the basement, or in my sisters room. Things got weird when I was 16. As if they weren’t already. He was addicted to pain meds (having had two open heart surgeries) And was knocked out half the time. He shot up with morphine. One day my mom dropped me off to stay at his house for the weekend but the front door was locked. I rang the bell, called his cell and the house tons of times. Finally I walked around to the back and let myself in, to find him upstairs in his room stumbling on the floor. I immediately began crying, and yelling at him. The last thing I said to him before I left was ‘’I don’t want to be around you when you’re on drugs.’’ That was on Sunday. I got my mom to pick me up and didn’t speak to him for the rest of the week, he died Thursday night of an “accidental drug overdose.”

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I was so angry that night, how weak of him, I thought. He was in over his head, greed and drugs is what did him in. I was just starting to get to know him too.

• 416 • I spent 17 ½ months in rehab and now I’m back out doing the same shit that got me there and then some, but I’ve never loved life more than I do right now. I’ve got two jobs, I go to school, I pay for my own shit. I’m responsible (I think that’s what you’d call it). I’m three days away from my 20th birthday and I never thought I’d have made it this far. If the drugs didn’t kill me, I would have killed myself, but I’m making it. I’m doing good. I love life. I love the people I have around me. I love the freedom of being able to LIVE! However I want to. However, I don’t regret one day of that 17 ½ months. It was a true learning experience. That’s how I prefer to look at it. That’s how I look at life. TRY EVERYTHING Try everything at least once, so you can make up your own mind. Always make your own decisions, be polite to everyone. Never worry about itty-bitty things. Love yourself.

• 417 • My life is pretty good, damn good compared to my childhood! I grew up in an abusive home, alcoholic mother, I was raped at 10 years old… blah blah blah… now, I live in a beautiful little town, have a terrific job, my family is semi-happy, and I have my pets, a great house, and my health. This just goes to show you that you can come out of a bad situation and not follow in the same footsteps as your parents. You can overcome adversity without relying on drugs or alcohol… well, maybe a little alcohol. I am vegetarian, atheist, and a librarian.

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• 418 • I just came to the realization that I have the first real physical problem in my life. I am on the verge of turning 21 and for the past five years I have done my experimentation with drugs. Everyone thinks that the gateway theory will never happen to them. I regret being stupid to think that I would be an exception. Now, I’m struggling to get my degree from a great university because of my temptation to try new experiences. This part of my life will reflect my future. I have to make the decision now if I will make a turn around or continue to allow this demon to control me for the rest of my life; or be the end of my life. Frankly, I fear what the future has in store for me. I never thought I would try banging smack and I never thought it would have me by the balls. So far, I have always been the one out of everyone in my life to never get addicted to anything. Now, here I am with the problem and I realize no one is going to be able to help me but me. Although I got myself in this hole with this demon, its not too late for me to kick its ass and find my way out; hopefully.

• 419 • One of the things I value most in life is love. My luck with women has been horrible as all the women I have had interest in have either used me or turned out to be slutty. These experiences have made me afraid to ask anyone out and I’m afraid I may end up like my father. My father has had three wives and hasn’t loved a single one. He married because marriage is more financially stable than being single. The chick I am into now is really cute and she seems really sweet. I only hope this works out but to be honest I can’t see anyone truly loving me for me.

• 420 • I have always been unsatisfied with life. My expectations for myself and others have always left me disillusioned. I reject the notion that I can be smart, pretty, or interesting. My self-loathing takes precedent, in my relationships with others, in which the first sign of real connection I duck out.

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In my sophomore year of college I started drinking more than my friends. At first it was like a badge of honor, college kids drink, I was doing it well. I was also drinking by myself and not going out. By the middle of my senior year, I burnt out. I had been taking anti-anxiety/depressants for years and decided to get another opinion. In my first in-take session they recommended I see a drug and alcohol counselor. I did and it blew my mind. I went every week until the end of the year. In one of my last sessions I cried the entire time. I had fought for months to hold it back. My counselor had been an addict and was good at the job. I was told it was the most honest and trusting thing you could do in front of someone, cry. I asked if it was the best part of the job, the reply was a yeah and a smile. I knew then, that one addiction can replace the other. For my counselor it was drugs for genuine tears. As for me, I’m still struggling but my addiction can be replaced. And that’s not an expectation I am willing to give up on.

• 421 • I am a survivor. I used to deal with the memories of being raped at a very young age (8-9) by abusing alcohol and drugs extensively… essentially, self-destructing. I had a lot of anger in me, at the perpetrator, at innocent bystanders, and most of all, at myself. I took out my anger on myself mostly by drinking my thirteen-fifteen year old self into blackout oblivion. Temporarily taking away my thoughts, my pain, the fact that I gave a crap about what happened. I also abused painkillers. All of this was done behind my parent’s backs, hidden very well. Every day I regret turning to substance abuse to deal with it and emotionally hurting my friends and worst of all, my family. I am now sixteen, have been clean and sober for almost a year now. My two year bout with substance abuse was intense and terrible. I have found healing in forgiveness, the hate I had in me was what was destroying me. I can’t change the past, but I have to be strong… I will not let him take a successful future and happy life away from me as well. It’s hard and it bothers me everyday of my life but I’m surviving. One day, I hope to gather enough strength to take him to court.

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• 422 • I’m sitting in Ann Arbor eating ice cream across from someone I’ve loved for a long time. He doesn’t even know it. We’ve been friends since my mom passed away after a four year battle against lung cancer. I love him ‘cause he doesn’t give me shit for smoking cigarettes. I know if I wasn’t moving to California we could be together. I think he knows we would help each other, but what he doesn’t know is that he could probably save me. He looks cute with the ice cream on his shirt. I feel funny writing all this with him so close… Indiscretion is a bitch. I’m just sayin.

• 423 • Six days before my 60th birthday, I lost my job. After nearly 10 years with the company, I was told bluntly, “We have to let you go. And I’ll have to supervise while you pack your stuff.” After all those years of 50-mile-round trips to do my best job to support someone else’s company, there was no thank you for your loyal service, no sorry to see you go. I was stunned not so much by the news but by how suddenly I went from an employee to an enemy of the company who was not to be trusted. I was escorted out a back door and not allowed to say goodbye to the people I’d worked with for a decade. I’ve since realized why there is no longer a ‘personnel’ department, but ‘human resources’. I was not a person, but merely a resource that was no longer of use, so tossed out the door. Two weeks later when I finally got my termination letter, my manager had written the wrong job title, and didn’t even get the term date correct. The only thing worse was my coworker was let go at the same time… the day before her father’s funeral. The total lack of compassion left me reeling. I’m not sure I’ll ever again be able to look at a job/company as more than just a paycheck.

• 424 • My boyfriend and I just found out we are having a baby. At first, we were terrified. This is our first child. Not just together, but our first child ever. He is getting laid off the first of July. I don’t make enough to support us, and I go to school full time. So yes, we were terrified.

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Then we started thinking… people have raised children on less. There are programs to help us until he can get another job. And we want this baby to live in a happy and loving home. Now we are just happy. He was just offered two jobs, one of which he will be making $28/hour. I guess that when it comes right down to it, the fates have a mysterious way of making things work.

• 425 • I am 22. I just graduated two months ago, did not think it was going to be this hard, decided not to go back home. Decided to stay out here where I thought I belong, so far I’ve been doing whatever job the wind blows towards me. I am happy I am grateful God has blessed me with good people everywhere I go. But I am scared. I am scared that this is all its going to be, living paycheck from paycheck without nothing else. I am scared that I will not move forward and Ill be stuck in this same setting. But I am hopeful I have faith. And I will keep walking.

• 426 • I woke up this morning and realized that I am happy with my life. I have a loving husband, I own my first home, and my job is pretty good. After coming to this realization I smiled and went back to sleep.

• 427 • I am currently one and a half months from graduation, have no job lined up, and am unable to acquire health insurance due to a pre-existing condition. I have also dislocated my scrotum three times over the past three months, and worry slightly about my prospects in the short-term. I’m still cautiously optimistic. My greatest fear is that I will end up back on the farm in Kansas. Hopefully, someone will recognize my absolute awesomeness, pay me accordingly, and I can stay in this beautiful state, fingers crossed.

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• 428 • I’m 25, going to be 26 in a few months, I feel that my life has been stuck in limbo, I just haven’t done anything with my life. I have become scared to socialize with anyone. My job keeps me isolated from other people, and without realizing it I have isolated myself from the rest of the world, I have become too inwardly focused. I have lived my entire life within the same city, born and raised. In a month, I am moving 1,000 miles away to finish college. I am scared, but also excited at the same time. I need to do this for myself and no one else. If I don’t take this chance, I will not survive much longer here in my present state.

• 429 • One thing I want to tell the world semi-anonymously: After numerous episodes of depression over the last 10 years, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder during my most recent hospitalization. I didn’t really care at the time, because I didn’t want to be alive anyway. The crummy thing is, now that the docs have figured out how to treat me, I feel better. Which leaves me terrified of how this disease is going to affect the rest of my life. How could I ever explain this to a potential significant other? Why would anyone WANT to take me on? I am really a liability in a relationship. What about my career? What if I relapse? Will I lose my job, and screw up my long-term prospects? I also hate living this dual existence. I don’t DARE tell anyone but my closest friends and family about my problem, but the other people are left to speculate about my periodic absence from work. On bad days I have to pretend that all is well, hiding in the washroom when it is too hard to contain the tears. The people who have a bit of an idea about my problem often treat me as though I am now stupid—despite my continued progression toward a PhD. My brain is simultaneously my best asset and my greatest liability. If you ever have to deal with a person who has mental health issues, PLEASE remember that we are real human beings with an intellect, feelings, and great worth. Do not judge us based on your limited knowledge of their disease— you cannot understand until you have lived it.

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• 430 • I’m 26 and started my education here at the University of Michigan College of Engineering. I failed out and got dismissed. Smoked enormous amounts of ganja and got absolutely drunk to kill myself. Didn’t die. Finished my degree in math and now I am a Ph.D. student. It’s just a job. Realized life is too short so it really doesn’t matter if you fail out. You won’t be the loser there. But you will be the biggest loser if you don’t pick yourself up. You have to be absolutely relentless because that’s what life is all about. It’s not just limited to academics—it’s life. Oh yeah, I’m an international student from India.

• 431 • My anxieties keep me from doing… anything. From meeting new people or experiencing new things. I can’t get on crowded buses or go to crowded places without feeling like I’m going to cry. I can’t hold conversations with strangers. I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin. I feel inadequate, like I am incapable of doing things that most people can—like driving or getting a part time job—even though I know I am. I worry about everything. Everything. I don’t know how I’m going to make it in life.

• 432 • I can’t seem to come to terms with the fact that the man who raped me is living a comfortable, successful, happy life. And here I am, on government assistance, with student debt, and unable to find a job. And when I see anyone happy, it hurts me inside, that no one ever stopped a moment to care about me.

• 433 • I’m 16 and yesterday, I told my mom I was gay. Looking back, I knew I was gay when I was only three years old. Nothing would have meant more to me than her acceptance, but she says she knows I’m not actually gay; she says she will never accept it. She says I’m stressing her out, but she won’t try to understand what I’ve been living with my entire life; the stress, the shame,

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the fear. She says she knows I’m straight, but there’s no point in arguing with her. So I can only hope things get better.

• 434 • I want to change the world. The easiest and most effective way to do this (I decided) is to become a director. To make movies. I want people to learn and grow when they watch my films. I want the world to know what I have to say. That is the prelude and the result of my story. I think I might be gay. I have had that thought for a long time but I haven’t ever REALLY tested it for sure. Why? Well, time plays into it. So does my awkwardness. But I digress. I can figure that part out on my own but what will people think of me? That is the most difficult question to try to answer because fear is a much stronger contributing factor than hope. I decided not to worry about it for the longest time. I can just live life and deal with my other issues (I’m not plagued with issues though). In this struggle to know what the world thinks, I think I finally figured it out. I will tell the world what to think. I will tell stories that CAUSE the world to think (Thought really isn’t all that bad I promise). I look at the stars every night and imagine more. I want the world to know what I see and that has led me to want to become a director. Also, I am pretty decent at making movies.

• 435 • At 16, I dropped out of school and was shipped away to a ‘wilderness therapy’ program in Utah. We hiked, shared stories, marveled at the beauty of the vast, desolate desert. I was lost before then—spinning out of control. I probably would have been dead before my 18th birthday. Yet something out there grabbed ahold of me—finally hit that nerve where I questioned myself, “What the fuck am I doing with my life and why am I doing it?!” Sent alone for a week with just two men as my spiritual guides, my stubbornness began to dissolve away, and I soon found myself screaming on top of a mountain. Screaming at the ghosts that haunted me for so many years.

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Screaming at myself for resisting change and progress for so long. Screaming for my future to begin. I came home. After twelve months I got my GED. Took classes at community college. Transferred into Michigan. The chaos has found some sense of order. I will never come off that mountain.

• 436 • A couple months back I had an existential crisis when I realized that a lot of Asian trans-genders are more attractive than I will ever be.

• 437 • I drink a lot. There are many reasons for it, but the primary reason is that when I drink, I feel like I’m my truest self. My tongue gets looser and my inhibitions crumble completely and I can say and be exactly who I always am but never can be. I love it and am terrified to ever stop. If it was truly up to me, I would just go through life drunk all the time. Then people would see the real me and not this fake, diluted, pretend me. My thought process is always: what I actually think - what I know will hurt your feelings - my fear of embarrassment - my fear of your judgment + how society says I’m supposed to feel = what actually comes out of my mouth. It’s exhausting. So… just one more drink please?

• 438 • When I was little, my dad would try to put me to sleep by running his finger down my nose and telling me “that’s how you put chickens to sleep.” It really annoyed me when he did this and I would pretend to be asleep just so he would stop.

• 439 • I was sexually abused when I was six to the age of 8. I’m now terrified of guys, I also hate myself. I hope to one day find a true friend who I can tell this to without the fear of judgement.

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• 440 • My mom died fifteen years ago—not physically, but psychologically. She claims that she is being bitten by bugs, yet years of going to the doctor, medication, and tests have turned up no results. When I was younger, I believed her… but now I realize that it must be in her head. She resorts to drinking, crying, and contemplating suicide. I’ve tried everything to make her stop—but she is in denial. It just sucks watching someone you love slowly kill themselves and you have absolutely no control over it… but what hurts even more is seeing my father remain faithful to her for all these years and to see the pain in his eyes knowing the woman that he married is no more.

• 441 • I’m 22 years old and I’m still a virgin. It’s not something I’m ashamed of, though the thought of losing it is worrying. I’ve never been in a serious relationship and it seems the longer I stay single the more awkward I am around women. I often think about just going out one night, get drunk and lose it to a stranger, but that just wouldn’t feel right.

• 442 • Have you ever watched your father cry? Watched him break down in sobs, and say “I miss my daddy.” It is the most heartbreaking thing I think I have ever seen. Pappaw died in February. Daddy didn’t tell him goodbye until Father’s Day. And there is nothing you can do. Nothing you can say, nothing you can offer. All that was to be done was listen to him, hug him, and tell him not to feel guilty. That he was sick, didn’t need to go to the hospital, and Pappaw would understand. He could not have known Pappaw was going to die later that night. It killed a little of my soul. And now, when I am alone, that is what I think about. My father holding onto an iron fence, sobbing, saying he missed his daddy. My brother, looking lost and crying too.

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I am so sorry I had to tell you this. That you had to read this. There are so many sadder things in this life than this story. But you see, I had to tell someone. I had to share it with someone. Hopefully you understand. You can relate to me. Do you know how much better that makes me feel? That although we will never meet, YOU understand, and I am not alone.

• 443 • I am going to be a better father to a child that isn’t mine than my biological father was to me. Absent. Irreplaceable. I needed him. My child will know love. And me.

• 444 • I wake up every morning and hate my life. It seems so mundane and useless. I wonder sometimes why people say “everyone has a purpose.” I feel that I will go through life and when I die, I will have completed nothing of importance. I go from one career to the next. I have a college degree, and I am sitting in a cubicle. My family is falling apart. My sister is in jail. My mother is a manic depressive. My father is just floating around this world like everything is normal. My boss is a bitch. When will things get interesting?

• 445 • I’ve been talking to my half-sister for two years now. And my—our—father has no idea that I am even aware of her existence. All I can think about is if he wonders about her. If on my wedding day he will be wondering if he missed hers.

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• 446 • I’m 19. I started doing drugs when I turned 15, and I started snorting cocaine before I was 16. I lost all of my friends and my boyfriend who got me into it in the first place. I thought my life was over. Last September I met this boy. We started talking and he hasn’t left my side since. He always promised he would help me get through it. I’ve been sober for four months now. The day before I met him I was planning my death. I owe my life to him.

• 447 • All my life I have been called a freak for my skin. I have eczema. Lame, right? It’s an emotional response. When I get angry or stressed, my skin flares up and turns into red, painful, embarrassing, overbearing rash. I have no control over it. Years of torture, pain and humiliation have taught me to be strong, patient and to love myself regardless of the world. Now that I have come to terms with that, my father comments on my ‘’muffin top’’ calling me fat and asking me if I really need to eat that. Hurdle number two, coming right up.

• 448 • My father was terribly mean to me. He had no reason to be. I never did anything to him. Except that he thought everything I did was done with the purpose of pissing him off. He is far too self centered. He only ever hit me once but I was a baby. After that he would only pick me up and move me, or push me. He would say mean things to me that normal people wouldn’t say to anyone. He doesn’t think that anything he ever did to me was mean. But everyone else in my life knows that he was mean to me. He told us this summer that he’s been cheating on my mom for ten years. He moved out. I haven’t talked to him since Thanksgiving. I keep getting reminded of the terrible things he did to me that I repressed. Sometimes he texts me and tells me he loves me. But he doesn’t. He wouldn’t need to say it if he did. He caused me to have severe depression. I failed out of school

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twice and am taking this semester off to fix myself. I’m doing really fucking well. I like myself way more today than I have for the past 18 years of my life. I hate my dad for what he did to me, but at the same time he made me the way I am. But right now he isn’t in my life and I love it.

• 449 • My therapist, who I had been seeing for ten years, borrowed three thousand dollars from me and disappeared for two months. When I heard from him again, he said he’s broke, changing careers, and will pay me back when he can. His colleagues suggest I need a new therapist to get over the old one. I guess he is doing his best, but I’m having trouble making sense of the whole situation.

• 450 • I hate to say it, but while I was sick and confined in my house for three straight weeks, I missed rock climbing more than I missed my boyfriend. I would rather climb than make out. I don’t want my friend to go to London because she drinks alone, and I’m afraid she’s going to collapse and she’ll have nobody close to go to. I have faith in her to succeed, but I also have an equal amount of doubt, which is the worst feeling to have toward my best friend. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to her. Before my grandfather died, he asked me to play his favorite song at his funeral. I really wanted to because as a child I remember my grandfather as this wonderful, kind man who was always ready to love me and my family. It’s how I remember him, and how I will always remember him. However, It’s not how my father remembers him from his childhood. He wouldn’t let me play for him. He didn’t even tell me he was leaving for the funeral. I plan to travel to his home state and go to where his ashes were spread so I can play for him again. I’m not going to tell my father though. I’ve been holding this grudge for almost three years now.

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My parents think I want to work at a particular music camp because I want to be with all my friends, be around music and get paid. This is true, but more than that, I want to go because it’s a camp of lesbian counselors. Aka, the most wonderful. I’m glad to know that the one thing in life that will always make me happy is being in a kitchen baking delicious foods for the people I love and care for. He doesn’t know it, but my Russian teacher had a bigger impact on my life than any other person I know. я люблю русский язык. это очень красивые.

• 460 • I am a 19 year old boy attending university in Oregon and going for my Special Education Teaching Degree. I have great friends, a great family back home in Hawaii, and a wonderful, supporting boyfriend. I love skateboarding, surfing, snowboarding, and photography. I’ve secretly smoked cigarettes since I was 14, no one knows, I’m up to a pack a day and still no one has said a thing to me about it. I started coughing up bloody, brown chunks a month ago, and it still hasn’t stopped. I’m too scared to say anything because my boyfriend lost his father to a smoking related heart disease. I don’t know what to do, I’m getting worse and all I can do is hope.

• 461 • I wanted to speak about my father, the greatest man I know. I was blessed to have him as a father for he gave me and my family everything he could muster. When I was ten my mother contracted a rare hypothyroid illness and became a different person ever since. She never stopped loving us kids though. My father took on all the responsibilities of the household due to this. I attempted to help him, however, he denied me the opportunity. I asked him “Why not? I’m only trying to help.” My father responded “Cause you need to focus on your studies. I won’t be able to pay for your college or help you in any other way since I left work to help out here. This is the least I can do for you to

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have the best life you can have.” I will always remember this for the rest of my life. I wish I could thank him more and more for his efforts, however I feel it lays on deaf ears since from all the stress from years of unrest given by my mother who only complained and caused only grief. He formed two strokes and a pulmonary embolism. To this day my father has never looked, talked, or held me the same… Acting as if he’s in a fog with no recognition of his surroundings and I wish I could see him every weekend if possible in the nursing home he’s currently in. I love him and always will.

• 462 • People think that my life is perfect and happy all the time. It drives me crazy because of their assumptions. I’ve recently adopted what I call “controlled” bulimia, I felt I needed to lose weight. I feel like I’m in charge of it; maybe I’m not. I have a really low self esteem but no one would ever know that because I do theatre, I’m outgoing, and have an active social life. I’m happy but there are so many things from my past that I’m afraid have made me damaged goods. I have a huge father complex that seems to get me into trouble. I seek acceptance in older men and find disappointing people devastating. My perfectionist ideals can be self destructive to my health but I somehow seem to fool everyone around me. I’m either the best actress or an incredible fraud.

• 463 • Not too long ago I realized why it is I’ve yet to find myself in a relationship; I’m afraid of commitment. I’m afraid to let anyone in and truly expose myself. I’m afraid of being let down and not being strong enough to deal with it. I’m afraid. Every single time I’ve gotten close enough to a guy I’ve balked at the last moment and driven him out of my life. Completely. I now like this really amazing guy. He’s a truly wonderful person. I hope I manage to keep my fears grounded this time.

• 464 • I was born in a male body. I have had a female spirit and soul for all my life.

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Last year, I started hormone therapy to become my true self. My father has disowned me. I am forbidden to see my grandson. But I am happier. I am myself. I am in love with a beautiful woman who loves me for who I am. Her daughter loves me for who I am. For the first time in my life, I am myself. I am happy.

• 465 • I’m the good girl—straight A’s, virginal, and pure of heart, body, and soul. I love donating to my community and being able give a helping hand. During my sophomore year, alone, I qualified to Nationals in FBLA, won a state-wide writing contest, several speech tournaments, and a substantial scholarship to boot. I’ve asked myself over and over, “Why would my ex-boyfriend’s parents want their son to date the lifeguard (who was molested by her father and who has the intellectual capacity of a gnat) instead of me?” The answer is too simple—she has religious continuity. So for all you religious, pious, elitist bastards out there, reconsider this: God’s work goes beyond the church. Instead of judging others, look inward. For every “religiously compatible” person out there, you can find many within your church that do not represent any of God’s teachings but are considered “saved.” Open your eyes to those around you that may have a broader version of God, but don’t sit in your pews. Chances are, they will teach you a lot more about God and spirituality than any scripture can.

• 466 • Each day I sit in a cubicle on the 10th floor working for a major bank (the second largest in the US), staring out the window at a blinking red light atop a cell phone tower that’s miles away. I’m sitting in this cubicle checking and entering financial transactions until 6:30pm. I have a degree in finance, but I never use it, ever. The reason I sit there is ironically because of the degree, which in this country is synonymous with debt. I am on my own, accepting

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responsibility, in the real world, paying the bills, etc. This is synonymous with living a meaningless existence. I’m on repeat. I started out in chemistry, and when I realized this was not the path I wanted to end up on (despite doing well)… I decided instead I wanted to move to philosophy and/or psychology. But when confronted with the change, the main contributors to my private college education had other thoughts. My parents told me to find the money if I wanted to end up in a profession that guarantees I will not get a job upon graduating. Find the money. Clearly I couldn’t, I did not want to transfer my Junior year, so I took the advice of my father—go into business, make money. His only concern has been money, for as long as I can remember. My mother’s only concern, though she will deny it, has been money, and she spends it. They both have no clue how to make, and/or save it, and they are fucked for retirement. This is why they will both most likely be divorced when all of my siblings are through school. I won’t be surprised. It’s been just over a year now since I graduated, and I am starting to study for the GRE. I am going to find a way to get back into school, even if it means more loans, to pursue something in psychology - possibly evolutionary psych, I don’t know, I’m still reading way too much and changing my mind on a daily basis. My only motivation to get up in the morning is the possibility that the same days on repeat will soon end, and that the prospect of finding someone to love is always there, though I never seem to be able to hold onto it until it’s too late. I can no longer surround myself with people concerned only with the bottom line - people who’s weekly highlight is jeans day on Friday. I can no longer read the emails I receive twice a day that can be summed up into three of the same words: profit, profit, profit. I will no longer spend my days as a drone for 30K a year. All of these things are in my head. I can now see why the majority never breaks the cycle.

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• 467 • I lie more than the average American. I have created a boyfriend, a disease, an abusive father, and a very colorful story about my birth. I don’t know who to tell the truth to, because I don’t want to be known as a fraud, but it’s getting harder and harder to keep up with who I told which lie to. One day, I just want to stand up and tell everyone “Hi, everything you think you know about me is a lie. Do you still love me?”

• 468 • I am an 18 year old girl who is about to go to University for Computer Science. I joke with my friends that I’m going to be the only girl there. It scares me that I might not make any friends, and then I start yelling at myself for being so childish. I fear the worse in me and others—I’m the worst pessimist you will ever meet and I don’t believe in Jesus. I have gone to Catholic schools all my life and I cannot bring myself to believe in the fundamental aspects of Christianity (or any religion really). On my graduation we had a mass, both my parents were there and when it came time to go up to get the Eucharist, I remained seated. Both of my parents were angry (even though my father isn’t catholic) and embarrassed. I tried to explain to them my feelings, but it was a lost cause. I hope in the best, but I expect the worst.

• 469 • I am eighteen, and I met my dad last summer for the first time, Ever. Our relationship has blossomed so much and he wants to contribute to my life now more than ever. The hardest part about never having him around when I grew up was Fathers Day. It was the only day of the year I felt different to the other kids in my class. We used to make cards in art class. I remember when I was eight walking up to my teacher after she had assigned the dreaded task and reminding her I didn’t have a dad to give it to. I will never forget the look on her face, she was so embarrassed. She suggested I make one for my granddad. I informed her that he had died in a car crash. She next despairingly suggested an uncle. To put her out of the awkward situation I agreed. I sat back down and made a card. As I left the class room I ‘bined it. She saw, I didn’t mean her to.

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As for me I never missed having a dad. I didn’t know what it would feel like to have an ‘extra’ parent. I just feel sorry for mum having to raise me on her own. She sacrifices so much for me, even still, just so I can be happy. My ‘new’ cousin that I recently met is around the same age as me. We get along so well, like brother and sister. It would have been cool knowing someone as inspiring as him growing up. He’s taught me so much. He met his dad not long ago too, but unlike my situation his story hasn’t turned out so sweetly, and they don’t get along. I feel so guilty for my own story working out. I would swap stories in an instant if I could. Is that wrong? I really want to tell my father about this but I don’t have the courage. I hope I will someday.

• 470 • In one year I will be a commissioned officer in the US Army. It frightens me and drives me that people will trust me with their lives, the well-being of their families, and the safety of our future will be placed on my shoulders. I am worried that I won’t be able to bring everyone home and that some daughter or son will have to grow up without their father or mother. The stress has led me to drink and I am worried that I may become an alcoholic. I hope that I can live up to all the expectations that have been placed on me and that I can be a role model for others.

• 471 • My parents divorced when I was 6, I was an only child. My (very) wealthy parents were vile and worked 24/7. One day, when I was 17, my mother came home very drunk and violent. When I tried to stop her from coming in the house she shoved me against the wall and began to choke me. I called the police. She was arrested. She lost her job and her house. I watched her go to court for a felony and a misdemeanor, which she pleaded not guilty to, saying I made the whole thing up. She still blames me for “destroying her life.” My father wants me to move to California to live with him, but I don’t have the

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heart to tell him that I still want to mend a relationship with a mother who was never a mother—a woman who never really liked me.

• 472 • It’s hard for most people to see invisible scars or hear silent screams. They don’t listen closely enough or see very well. But some of us live silent screams and unseen scars. We walk under the weight of those who abandoned us or left because they couldn’t take the pain anymore. I lost my father to suicide almost three years ago. Silent screams. I have been estranged from my mother for five months, or maybe 21 years. Invisible scars. I may be orphaned but I am not alone. I may be beaten but I am not dead. I’m going to keep seeking people with the strength to love me back together again.

• 473 • Two years of my life are a dream. I had the greatest childhood, for which I am terribly grateful. I was so close to my mother, and she was my best friend. But her life wasn’t enough. Within two years, she lost 96 pounds, got a new job, had a tummy tuck and a boob job. I didn’t know who she was anymore, and soon after met the love of my life. We started a charity group together, did activist work, and he opened my eyes to the world. I loved him so deeply that I forgot who I was as a person, and only thought of myself with him. At 15 years old, I know I shouldn’t be involved this deeply but that didn’t stop me. When my mother announced to my three younger siblings and me that she was leaving my father, we were all crushed, not knowing how to deal with anything. We never had anything happen like this before and were dumbfounded. I began to cling to my love, and after a year and a half he broke things off. Within the next year, I tried to kill myself, was on anti-depressants, and battled bulimia for nine months. But I have since then met the most extraordinary people and had the best experiences. I have learned how to love life again. This might sound like any love-then-lost-and-loved-again story, but I’m OK with that. I just wish to offer my advice to anyone willing to listen—LOVE EVERYONE. Love and peace are what this world needs, but it is up to us to spread them.

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• 474 • I tend to get yelled at by random people on the street. One incident was on Easter Sunday in Hemboldt Park a couple years go. I was waiting at a bus stop along with a woman who seemed very nervous about the bus being so late. She would check down the street, waiting to see it approach, and sometimes I would go look instead. After one time I checked and indicated that it still wasn’t visible, and she remarked that she was glad she had already picked up food for Easter dinner because now there wouldn’t be time to prepare anything. She then asked me what I was doing for dinner. I was raised Jewish, I no longer practice, so clearly I had no particular plans for the evening. I told her I wasn’t doing anything and she seemed concerned when I told her it was because I’m Jewish (that’s usually a key phrase that worked in the past). She seemed confused and didn’t know what that meant. I explained that Jews don’t believe in Jesus and she was aghast. That’s when she got really angry. “What do you mean they don’t believe in Jesus?!” Everyone believes in Jesus!” She went on to list several denominations of Christianity she has subscribed to in the past, using them as proof that all people believe in Jesus. Me: “But those are all Christians.” Her: “What does that mean?!” Me: “Well, Christians believe in Jesus, Jews don’t. Jesus was a Jew.” Her: “Oh no! Jesus was a Christian.” Me: “Jesus was a Jew, then people became Christian in the followings of his teachings. It’s in the Bible.” Her: “This is not about the Bible!” At this point, another woman, older, maybe in her sixties, came up to the bus stop. The woman arguing with me stopped to ask her to settle this. “Excuse me, excuse me. Do you believe in Jesus?”

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The woman was appalled that someone would ask her something like that; “Of course I believe in the Father!” The two of them proceeded to gang up on me that everyone believes so then how could I say that the Jews (whoever they are) don’t believe in Him. “I’m Eastern Orthodox and my husband is Catholic, and even he believes in Jesus.” Claims that only people who don’t believe will get sick and die were traded as I slowly tried to blend into the bus shelter so they would forget I was even there.

• 475 • I was speaking to my mum on the phone the other day. She’s been dealing with the hardships of losing her husband (my father) for over two years now. Sad as it is for me, it’s even worse for her. I started crying on the phone to her because I was upset about her feeling so lonely. It angers me that my sisters throw a bitch fit every time she mentions of looking for a new partner. I don’t think they understand how much more painful it is for her than it is for her children. I just want my mum to be happy, but it upsets me when I know there is nothing I can do to help her. Weird as it may be, after finishing on the phone with her, it felt good to know that I still cared, that I could cry for a completely unselfish reason. I felt human once more.

• 476 • I believe in soul-mates, sure. But not just one—I believe someone can have many soul-mates. They come in all different forms. As a mother, brother, mentor, lover, friend. A soul mate is someone who has touched your life in a way you cannot explain. They give you something you never knew you had. Through the most painful parts of my life it is that truth that keeps me going. When my first love left me I felt like there was nothing left in my life. Behind all the pain I realized I was changed. It is through pain that people learn the most about themselves. It sucks to think of all the pain in the world. However, when you get past it all you might just realize that those who have hurt you

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the most were just soul-mates passing through your life, changing you for the better. And it is emerging through the pain that helps you find what you really love in life. It took me the longest time to trust the men closest to me. I am still learning to not hate. Hate my father for being violent. Hate myself for not sticking up for my sister and me. Hate my mom for never speaking up. Hate the boy who broke me in two. Hate myself for going back to him time and time again. But once I realized my hate was just a form of pain, I could let myself begin to heal. Through dealing with pain and hurt up front, one slowly begins to trust again, to love again, and to accept that people who bring pain, joy, annoyance, laughter, or tears are just the soul-mates passing through your life, making you a better person. Only if you let them. If you live not in vain, but in love, you will find the latter.

• 477 • I’ve felt old since I was 15. Nerve damage takes quite the toll on a tiny little body like mine. Plus a lifetime of emotional duress caused by abusive father figures hasn’t helped much either for feeling young. It just hucks me off that people always say, “you’re only as old as you feel,” but then get aggravated when I say I feel older, like 50 or 60 and in winter 70 or 80. My joints ache, I walk with a cane, I have gray hair, I can’t sleep, my health is frail, I hate children on my lawn. Why is that phrase only reserved for those that feel younger than their actual number of trips around the sun?

• 478 • Over six billion people in the world and I have never felt more alone. I have always been a caring person to those whom I have encountered, but I find myself being rejected by love time and time again. I thank my mother for the opportunity of life she has given me, yet she does not want to share our lives. I bless my father for supplying my every whim and fancy, yet he does not support my thoughts. I have given every ounce of my heart to the boy that cleared my suspicions of unrequited love, only for it to be returned in two pieces. I live with eight other girls, yet they all talk badly about one another and I can’t help but think they do the same of me. I have yet to find

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an everlasting relationship that contains true, genuine happiness thus making me question: If those who are supposed to, don’t love me, who will?

• 479 • I’m 22 years old. A simple guy. Last year was pretty much hell. It was my third year at college and all my grades went down, I was being stalked by a girl in which I had no interest, I quit my job, my car got smashed in an accident, a few months later, my car’s rims got stolen, I was depressed, sick, confused. Life seemed to hate me. Emotionally speaking I was a wreck, crying at night for no good reason, my potential mates were just trying to be with me for the things I had, and not for who I was. My biological father, decided he wanted to play at being a dad after a 20 year absence, “Fuck him, fuck everybody” was my usual attitude towards others. I was also hospitalized for eight days. Anyways, you get the idea my life sucked and could not get any worse, and didn’t seem to get better. Eventually, I found a new job, and just a few weeks ago I found somebody who loves me for who I am. So my message to you is, it doesn’t matter how bad life may seem to be treating you, just hold on. You’ll make it through, and the grass is always greener on the other side.

• 480 • My grandfather died four years ago. He moved away the year before across the country, and I never saw him before he died. I still believe he is in his home in Arkansas. I hope that I will be able to deal with the reality instead of living in this strange world I live in now. Why can’t I accept the fact that he’s gone forever? I can’t even remember what he looks like and yet I still believe I could see him whenever I want. I just need to come to terms. Soon.

• 481 • Every week, I see my dad for about one combined hour. Not because my parents are divorced, and not because he travels or anything. He just avoids me. We live under the same roof and he can’t stand me. I’ve struggled for years to figure out what I’ve done wrong, and I’ve come up with nothing. I wonder if he’ll ever truly love me the way I wish he would. I’m dating a boy

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who never knew his dad, and every time I try to find solace after a huge screaming match between me and my father, I find that he can’t offer support. Only jealousy. Because I have a dad and he does not. Is it okay that I hate to see father daughter dances at weddings? Or see a dad running his fingers through his daughter’s hair? I really feel a huge dad-shaped hole in me, and I don’t know what it’ll take to fill it. For now, I’ll try yoga and Oreos. Maybe piano tomorrow.

• 482 • I’m a lesbian. I’m in love with a boy. Who is gay. And my best friend. So really… what does that make me? I need to stop smoking Spirits. I’m only 19 and addicted to a pack a day. What can you do when you’ve lost your father to a stroke… but he’s still alive? Is that even a life worth living? Maybe that’s why I party too hard… and get too drunk and make my girlfriend worried sick about me… I’m doing the living he can’t do anymore while he sits in his armchair not speaking and watching Whale Wars. I would hate to have no voice like him… I don’t even remember what he sounds like… but I see him every day. I have no father.

• 483 • My friends know that I don’t really watch movies but no one knows why I’m so particular. First of all, I don’t like to make myself sad. I’m sad enough as it is so I certainly don’t need any help. Secondly, I’m afraid there will be loud, sudden noises in these movies. And while it doesn’t help that I’m naturally sort of a squeamish, a few years ago I realized that I sometimes flinched when I was surprised by loud sounds or sudden actions during movies. My father used to beat me and there’s that suspense like in the movies… you never quite know when it’s going to happen, when it’s going to get very, very bad. I just don’t want my involuntary actions to betray this dirty little secret.

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• 484 • [This entry was spoken by a young pre-school girl and transcribed by her father]

Hi! My name is Mirabel and I have a tale to tell. The boys in my preschool, when I went outside, they got me and banged me up to the fence and then they rubbed my face in the snow. Thanks for listening to my story.

• 485 • I’m 13 years old. I’m a boy. I live in a small town in Washington… my life has been hell… over and over again I have been talked down to by friends, by my abusive father, by a mother that doesn’t care. I may be only 13, but even though my heart is broken, I still care for people that might not care about me… usually people write on here about how bad their life is, or how bad their day is, even if it’s weird, I still care, whoever you are and where ever you are, no matter what happens, there is ALWAYS someone out there who has to care… always. I have tried to kill myself five times and I don’t know why I stopped any of the times, maybe it was the feeling of wanting more, or maybe wanting to try again I’m not sure, so if you are having a bad day, just know that even though you may not even know me, what I look like or even my fucking name… I still care! For the people who have been hurt, I hope I helped. Have a nice day.

• 486 • I miss home. I left when I was 18 to a gun pointed at me by my father. “Go” he said, ‘the rest of you get back in the house’… I left. That was four years ago, in a different city, in a different country, on a different continent. It was always believed I wouldn’t amount to much… I believed I would. Recently, I got in touch with some old acquaintances from my youth. They all either have children, or fucked something up so bad it’s clear they won’t make it to where they could have been or wanted to be.

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And then I realized, leaving was the best thing I could have done. I have a good job, great friends and a loving girlfriend. I don’t think I would have achieved this much at home. I have a totally new life…

• 487 • I didn’t know I was hurting myself. Not at first. I was 9, wasn’t it natural to pull your hair out in clumps because the pain soothed you and made you not think about how disgusting you were, how inferior to your sister, how unstable your family environment was? And at 11, isn’t it natural to play with fire? Letting the hot wax fall and harden on your skin, because it was distracting you from your father’s affair, your parent’s divorce, their shipping you out to live with your alcoholic uncle and crazy grandmother who believed women were made for cooking and cleaning? And at 14, look! Other people hurt themselves too, by cutting themselves. But see, no one takes it seriously. It’s just silly teenage girls being stupid. Do it, so you don’t have to think… then you recognize the problem, because your mother is sobbing and telling you to stop. So you do. But you become home-bound, at 15. You don’t want to go out. Why would you? You’ll only be criticized for being so fat and ugly and poor. But then, at 20, you can’t. And you have to go out. And now what? You start picking at your skin. But this is natural, right? Not a problem. But it is. You’re still hurting yourself, and this time, again, you didn’t even know it. But it’s soothing, so how can you stop?

• 488 • I am 20 years old and have been married for two years. Two days ago I gave birth to my first child. A beautiful baby girl. She is perfect in every way and looks just like her father. Today, she went home with her new, adoptive parents.

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My husband and I made the choice to give her up for adoption long before she was born. Not because we don’t love or want her, but because we want her to have the best life she can. Something that we can’t give her. She has been adopted by my husband’s mother and father, her grandparents. We know that they will give her an amazing life and will love her just as much as we do. It was a hard choice but we know it was the right one. I was also adopted by my grandparents when I was a baby. I miss her with all my heart. I don’t regret my choice, but I regret that I am not in a position and point in my life where I can have her with me. I can’t seem to stop crying. My biggest fear is that I will forget what it feels like to hold her. That I will forget what she sounds like when she cries—That I will forget what she looked like the first time I saw her. I miss her so much.

• 489 • Today I had a fight with my boyfriend. We’re long distance for the summer and he is so much better at forming ‘friend-groups’ than I am, so he rarely calls when I think he will. I was lying in bed last night (crying) (being ashamed for crying) and thought of the best compliment I’ve received so far, which is that I can be hawk-like. I thought of hanging out with a friend yesterday, pretending to ignore him trying to touch me all the time. I’m tired of attracting people. When you have a body that checks off all the boxes (Breasts: Big. Ass: Big. Waist: Small) it’s like no conversation is ever about anything else. Even if I’m having a conversation about poetry or Darfur, it’s never just about that: It’s about why they approached me. Anything more than a cold shoulder means flirting. Two days ago I met a lesbian at a party; yesterday she texted me. This is a bullshit “personal story,” but it’s the most true thing I can write. How fucking sad is that?

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• 490 • I fall into the number two slot on my boyfriend’s priorities. Number one: Magic the Gathering.

• 491 • I am 31 years old, completed my doctorate, have a great job, and on the verge of obtaining my dream job. However, I constantly ask is it all worth it. I work very long/odd hours, live half a country away from family and close friends, all to achieve my professional goals. I miss weddings, family get-togethers, graduations, and just watching my nieces/nephews grow up. Hell, I don’t even have a romantic relationship for myself… all because I’m driven to achieve my professional goals. Is there a breaking point? Will I get fed up? Will I find love? Am I missing out on the good stuff in life because of what goals I have set for myself?

• 492 • I’m not sure that true love really exists anymore. I think that people just settle for someone that they can tolerate waking up next to every morning. I have not had a relationship in which the girl was faithful yet. My fiancé left me for another female. The girl that finally convinced me to get back on the bike after my failed engagement cheated on me and left me for her ex-boyfriend. Its hard to think about a lot of the time, that I don’t feel like I can trust anyone.

• 493 • Hi, I’m 16. I love my life, and I’m so grateful to the friends I have. I’ve found it difficult being sociable and close to people for parts of my life, especially after I started secondary school. I talked to nobody, not even kids I’d been good friends with before, and I never want to feel that lonely again. It was about a year before I talked to anyone sociably at all, and after that I decided I had to pull myself out of what I think now might have been serious depression. People are seriously amazing though. A year ago I was outed (accidentally) as gay to my entire year. I’d known for a while, and so did a circle of friends,

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but I’ll never forget that horrible moment when a girl I’d never even spoken to me came over and asked if it was true I was a lesbian. It was so weird— there was a lot of whispering, and glances, and stares, but people I spoke to in the few days after were wonderful. Truly incredible. It made me feel so much better about who and what I was, and I wouldn’t have changed what had happened for anything. If you get the chance to make someone feel like this then do. It doesn’t take much. Thank you.

• 494 • My life is great. I have a wonderful family that loves me and the best friends a person could ask for. I get good grades and don’t have to pay tuition for college. Awesome, right? But I constantly feel like something is missing, like something is tragically wrong with my life, and I have no idea what it is or what I should do about it. Maybe its stress. I come home some days and just sit in my room and cry, feeling terrible. I have no idea what is going on with my life or what I’m going to do in these next few years. I constantly think about quitting everything and running away. Or hitting someone. That could work too.

• 495 • Today I realized how desperate I am to find love. For the past eight years I’ve secretly laughed at my best friend for all of the failed relationships she’s been through. She’d crush on guys for months and never stood a chance with them. She had a boyfriend for three days. She got kissed and then freaked out at our homecoming sophomore year. She went to college and ended up losing her virginity with her R.A. That alone killed me. After all the talks we’ve had, about how we swore that we’d save ourselves for a man that we truly loved. And then finally she went to rehab. Dropped out of college with a .67 GPA and went to rehab for anxiety/depression disorder. Now I just sound like a horrible friend. Please don’t judge me. I’ve always been a shoulder to cry on and I never was happy that she was in pain. But I will say that I thought I was better than her. There I was, or better yet, here I am still in college with a decent GPA, loving family, and awesome circle of close friends. But

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no boyfriend. Not once ever a boyfriend. Today I went to lunch with my best friend. She hasn’t gone back to college but she’s in a relationship. She doesn’t have a loving family but she has a place to call home. She runs her own life, makes her own money, and has someone to love. I can’t help but think how wrong I was to laugh at her. Because even with all the pains and struggles she’s been through in her life, in the end she has the one thing that I’m desperate for: Love.

• 496 • I will love you. Just wait. OK?

• 497 • I live at home when I’m far too old to do so. My job, like most everyone else’s, makes my brain feel like it’s oozing out of my ears. My friends have all grown up and moved on with their lives. I feel like a failure at school, at home. But I’m in love with the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. Even better, he’s in love with me. And somehow that makes up for anything bad going on in my life.

• 498 • I feel as though I give my all to every single person I call a friend, but only a few of them really appreciate it. I want to be appreciated, not thought of as someone to lean on all the time. I want someone to lean on as well. I need that shoulder at times. I don’t think any of them understand how strong I’m not. I want them to listen to my problems, and not just brush it off like nothing. I guess I just want to feel more loved.

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• 499 • There has been one event in my life that has shaped me more as a human being and taught me more about understanding and comfort and caring more than any self-help book or Doctor could have. Any event in life that can shape someone that much is worth mentioning, even if never to be heard by anyone. Getting this off my chest right now has been more help to me personally than any doctor or drug could have. Thank you for every minute of every tear I have shed. Thank you, Brandon. And I love you, uncle Scott. Please, always get tested for HIV/AIDS. I don’t ever want to forget my uncle like my family has. I love you, uncle Scott.

• 500 • I met the most wonderful person a month and a half ago. I had spent such a large part of my life telling myself, telling the universe what I wanted. What I was supposed to have, and never getting it. I should have known better. I decided a month and a half back to just let go, see what the universe has for me and embrace it instead of rejecting it. Through a strange series of events, a friend from 20 years ago visited me. He got me to look at a specific online dating site and urged me to talk to one person he found in particular. I waited before deciding to be open to the universe and all it had. I reached out to find out this person was a co-worker I hadn’t really spoken to for the last year or so. A few nights later, I ran into her and her friends out on the town… again because this friend wanted to go out. My co-worker introduced me to her friend and as we shook hands I felt this incredible fear and wanted my hand back. I sat there for a bit trying to figure it out and realized it wasn’t fear, but her touch alone set my soul afire. We ended up talking a bit and when we parted we shook hands again. I didn’t want her or I to let go. It was like the universe manifested itself right there and shouted to me in love and compassion that she is someone who should be in my life. She is someone I should know and be known by. A month later we met again. We’d had sporadic emails… my co-worker wanted to fix us up as she said she saw sparks, but our schedules made it a

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bit difficult to get talking. Now its been two weeks of dating. I don’t know where this will go. I have hopes, but I’m keeping myself open. The universe brought us together saying “you should know this person.” She is truly one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. Whether we become one of the greatest love stories ever told or just good friends it will be wonderful to have her in my life. From what she’s told me, it sounds like she was finally in the right place to meet someone when we met as well. I’m going to try a lot more of this being open. I’ve known for years that I should be, but its funny how when you finally are, things begin to play out as they should. One thing I do know, I enjoy learning about her and from her. I could spend a lifetime learning and sharing with her.

• 501 • I will be 19 in two weeks and I have never kissed a boy. I’ve never been in a relationship, gone on a date, or anything close to it. I’ve had dozens of crushes and even been in love once. But nothing’s ever happened. People just don’t find me attractive. I joke and tell people that it doesn’t bother me. But it honestly does. I feel like I’m missing out, or that I’m abnormal or weird. I feel stupid and unattractive. I’m also a huge romantic, and I want love like that very badly. I want to be kissed before my 19th birthday.

• 502 • I’m 17. I go to a “nice” school. I’m in love with a drug dealer. I’m not really in love with him. I just like him. He’s in my french class. But what do I know, I’m 17. He doesn’t know I like him. Or maybe he does. But nothing’s ever going to come of it. That’s how my life works. Boring. I know that the only way I’d ever be able to spend time with him would be to go into the woods and smoke with him.

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Sorry this is boring and not super serious or meaningful. I guess it’s just what I think about.

• 503 • I love you and I can’t live without you. There is no sad story this time, no horrible truth. It’s just that. I love you.

• 504 • I find myself struggling every day with the memory of the monster who made me feel worthless. Being hurt by words smarts much worse then any blow. I have been beat—I can handle being beat. But when someone takes who you are and constantly diminishes it and strips you down of every instance you find security and confidence in, it really throws you for a loop. Until you are this desperate being craving this persons attention and “love.” Then that same individual takes all you have left of yourself, your body. He uses it as he pleases and you continue to let it happen because you need him, and that little bit of fulfillment. Maybe this time he will really mean it. He never does. You get to the point where you find yourself sobbing on a bathroom floor when you realize its gone to far. You tell him keep his distance, leave you alone. He doesn’t listen. There was nothing more satisfying then PUNCHING THAT FUCKER IN THE FACE.

• 505 • I should tell you that I’m in love with you, and that I have been ever since you first said “I miss you.” But things get complicated when I’m still partially in love with my ex, who’s now in a relationship. I’ll never admit how much that hurts me. And the fact that I was falling for a schizophrenic may have some complications as well.

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But fuck, boy. You really make me stumble all over myself. I feel so girlish writing all about boys and love and… what have you. But really, what else is there when you’re seventeen? I have my camera, my books, and my love. What else is there to offer? I’m okay with that. But really. I love you. And not in a platonic way, like you said. Come and find me.

• 506 • I leave the town I grew up in, in two weeks. My actions are slowly losing all repercussions. I confessed my love to a boy dating my close friend. I punched the boy who cheated on me. And I disrespected my teacher. Maybe it’s just me and my lack of interest in this town that lets me do this, or maybe its that none of these people will never see me again, but I can feel my permanence slipping away and I’m not sure if it’s a good thing.

• 507 • I’m losing touch losing touch losing touch… with him, with Him, and with them. He’s just too far away right now. I can’t relate or love in the way I used to. I’m strongly attracted to other men and I know that I’m going to hurt him and it will be… My. Fault. And He’s so bluntly misrepresented by the society I live in that I can barely speak of Him anymore. I believe and trust and follow… but if I can’t speak then… I. Fail. And I am so sure of, but so afraid that, they don’t love me as much as they say they do. It would get better if I asked. Simple but… I. Can’t. And what the hell do I do now? Those are my three rocks… but they’re being cracked… or worn down too much… or so jagged that I can’t rest on them anymore. I. Am. Lost.

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• 508 • I’m studying international politics. I took this path because I believe so strongly that I can change the world, that my endeavors and my love for humanity will help to bring about a better community that we can all say that we are a part of. I think that there are people out there who are so clouded by what is going on in their personal lives that they cannot see that their planet is being destroyed; that the framework that is upholding their society is crumbling; and that we’re all in it together. I think that once we realize the latter, and accept it, things will be a lot better. People tell me that I’m foolish, that I’m too idealistic and not realistic. It’s not their words that make me weep. It’s their belief that this world cannot be a better place that streaks tears down my face. Things can only change if there are enough people willing to make the change. I, for one, will always believe that this world can be better and that all humans are decent enough to actually make it work.

• 509 • Oh-so-original. I’m not an addict, I’ve got a decent job, I’m in college, I have a place to sleep (even if it’s just in my parents’ house), I’ve got an amazing boyfriend, I have great friends… And still, STILL, sometimes I feel like my life isn’t worth living. Then I watch the news and feel guilty that I feel that way, because clearly there are people in the world who have it WAY the hell worse than I do. And here I am complaining about my poor miserable neglected life. So my question(s) is (are), what do you do in a land of immense privilege when you’ve got all the resources in the world, but don’t know what to change or how to begin? How do schools prepare us for the outside world when they can’t even begin to prepare us for what’s beyond the front porch?

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How can governments expect test scores to predict our utility in life? Are we really so compartmentalized now that we have to rely on statistics to tell us what we’re good at? Why do people get stuck in jobs they hate, when they could easily make a difference doing what they love? Why is it that the people who can help the most are the ones that care the least? Stick THAT in your textbooks and test it.

• 510 • My mom told me that when you go to heaven, God gives you all the balloons you lost when you were alive. The only part that sucks about that, is that I’m afraid of balloons. I know what you’re thinking, something along the lines of, ‘who’s afraid of balloons?’ Yeah, I’ve heard that before. But when you think, and I mean really think, you might be able to understand my logic behind it. Since you don’t actually know how I think yet, I’ll explain it this once. It’s like this: Picture yourself holding this pretty, shiny balloon. You’re holding this balloon when all of a sudden, the balloon hits something that’s barely even sharp or pointy, like the god damn ceiling or something. The balloon pops, but not in a way that it’s like a bubble popping and it makes no sound. Nope, when this balloon pops it’s like a mini explosion. It’s basically a time bomb, but you don’t know when the boom happens. My beautiful play toy just scared the crap out of me. No, God, you can keep those balloons that I set free. Give them to someone else that loves being scared at random times. Someone that’s truly messed up, but that seems like everyone.

• 511 • Hi. I’m 25, I work in the science field, I have a promising career, great friends, and a lot of debt. Twister is, I am an addict. I’ve been abusing pain pills and a little heroin for the last five years. I made it through college, with plenty of depressing episodes. You can’t imagine the pain that an addict feels when he is coming down. I recently did my last detox (or so I claim). It’s a pain that radiates from your bones, you would do anything, kill anything, steal anything just to be free from the pain. Imagine medieval torture and that’s

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about what it feels like. I would beat my own arms and legs against things just so I could ignore the pain in my bones for a few minutes. My best friend has a great job too, and he’s an alcoholic. I love him dearly but we couldn’t be different and couldn’t ever understand each other’s pain.

• 512 • I’m young and inexperienced. My emotions fluctuate more often than the sun rises. I am extremely self-conscious. A year ago, I met a girl that fixed all of this; she fixed me. I fell so madly in love with her that I didn’t even know how to cope with my rapidly progressing feelings. I’m a girl. She is “incapable” of being attracted to me. I can only hope she finds someone to fix her too.

• 513 • I miss you. Can you realize you were wrong, soon? Love you.

• 514 • I began losing my hair at 19. At first I thought it was just a phase. I thought it would grow back. I went to see my doctor who told me it would never grow back. I became suicidal. When I first realized it was happening, I became obsessed with hair. Suddenly, everywhere I went people were talking about hair… how they were going to bleach it, streak it, perm it, dye it. When I thought of the future I didn’t think by then I’d be doing this or by then I’d be doing that, I just thought by then… I’d be bald. I’m now 29 and bald, and a shadow of my former confident self. A lot of people suit it but I don’t think I do. I come across as confident and bubbly with people at work, but away from work I never socialize… I don’t like to go out. I’m in a “relationship” with a great guy I met online. I love him, but I’m using somebody else’s picture. I know it will all end in tears, but I have so little going on in my life—I’m finding it more difficult to come clean.

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• 515 • Life is full of uncertainty. Like whether or not I’ll lose my house. Like whether or not I’ll ever pull myself above the poverty line. The anxiety disorder probably doesn’t help. It sometimes seems to me that not being able to know what will happen next is the worst part. And yet, there are those completely unexpected moments with the ones we love. Those precious times that are absolutely, perfectly imperfect. Like springing for the hotel suite and taking two hours to figure out how to work the heat for the jacuzzi. Like taking a weekend camping trip and having a massive storm blow our tent into the next lot. Like being at the beach during the only dry moment and watching my boyfriend pull out a ring. And it is during these times that I remember what makes uncertainty so worthwhile.

• 516 • I am as introverted as an introvert can be. I have no true friends, no one special with whom I can talk and confide in. My mom had to nearly drag me to go see a therapist for the sake of spilling at least a portion of the thoughts that keep themselves lodged in my head. The few friends I do have, I can’t be myself around. The closest friends I have are my family, but even then I never tell them anything anyway. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I were somebody else. Somebody pretty and easy going, not shy and withdrawn like me. Someone who can laugh and have fun and not always look like they’ve smelled something bad because I’m sure that’s what I look like half the time. It’s not that I don’t want friends, that I don’t like people, that I’m unfriendly—I’m just scared, don’t talk because nobody has listened since I was a little girl. Sometimes I’ve thought maybe if I were beautiful someone would want to know me. Please don’t make the mistake I made; please trust people because it’s beautiful to have that one person in the world who can know you inside and out and still love you just the same. It’s the worst mistake I ever made. Being without a friend is the worst feeling in the world.

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• 517 • I’m cheating on my boyfriend of almost a year. He has never been easy to get close to and its hard hearing all the time from other people that I should leave him and find a guy that will treat me better. This sounds like an excuse, but its really just some background information. I joined a free online dating site originally intended on creeping on people’s accounts, but I met this guy. I had no idea I would ever find someone who matched up with me so well. We went out dancing a few times, and even hung out on our own and recently things have been getting heated. I love my boyfriend, but he is immature and horribly self-centered, while this new guy is real and solid. He doesn’t feel like he would blow away if I exhaled. Both deserve better than this and I have no idea what I am going to do. I am constantly being reminded of the movie Sweet Home Alabama; “You can’t ride two horses with one ass.”

• 518 • Hello, I’m 18 years old. I think I’m gay… funny that I’m already 18 and I’m still not sure about it. I woke up one day feeling different, strange. I live in a very closed society, and so, I’m not really sure if I should come out but I feel repressed. Other than that I’m a perfectly normal 18 year old, I love art and I think its really easy to talk to strangers because they don’t judge and if they do, you’ll never find out. I wish everyone who reads this the strength to be happy no matter what and the courage to look for it.

• 519 • I think love languages are one of the most interesting things about people. Physical touch, quality time, acts of service, giving gifts and words of affirmation. I love figuring out how people show love and how they receive it best. I think we need to love more specifically and make sure that people feel appreciated. There is too much crap in this world right now for people not to know that they are great. I want to be a better lover and encourager.

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• 520 • I have a polyamorous marriage that is very successful. My husband is largely interested in men, and I’m bi. I’m very excited because right now I have a little boyfriend, and one that is much younger than me! It is so exciting to simultaneously experience the rush of a new infatuation AND the mature and developed love that I share with my husband. This lifestyle isn’t for everyone, but it works for me.

• 521 • I’m moving out of my parent’s house and into my boyfriend’s place on Saturday. I’ve been acting excited about the move, I’m almost 20 years old and I feel like I need to escape my parents. This is the easiest, most convenient way to do it. I am terrified of moving on with my life, of getting a “real” job and going to a “respectable” college. But mostly, I am terrified of my boyfriend. He tells me he hopes I’m “the One,” that he really thinks he’s found his soul mate. He tells me he loves me when he wakes up and before he goes to bed. I don’t want him.

• 522 • My dog died a week ago. Along with the pain and sadness of losing a member of my family who didn’t judge me, laugh at me, or verbally abuse me, it made me realize that I could never become a genuine Christian. I could never believe in a God that keeps your family, friends, and loved ones hostage so that if you’re not good and live up to His expectations you never see them ever again. My best friend is a born-again Christian. He and I often get into very involved discussions (I’m a science person). To tell the truth though, I envy him. He used to be the most volatile person before he “got religion,” and he appears very happy. Am I a bad person because I miss that volatile side?

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• 523 • It’s my birthday next week. I love birthdays—at least other people’s birthdays. Mainly because I love giving people gifts. I always hope for a big celebration, but I always end up disappointed—even though I usually keep my expectations low. This year I just don’t want to be alone.

• 524 • I’m 21, a woman, and an aspiring nursing student. But I haven’t managed to pass the test to get into the nursing program. I don’t have a job, I go to the local community college, and I live with my parents. But I can truthfully say that it’s all okay because I’m in love with her. No one knows and no one can. If her girlfriend knew that I loved her, then she’d destroy me. So—I’m content to keep my romance with her a secret. I only wish we could hold hands in public.

• 525 • I am 18 and over my spring break, while others partied and got drunk, I went to the doctor to get tested for ovarian cancer. Luckily, no cysts were found. Unluckily, the stomach pain didn’t go away and they still don’t know what is causing the hormone imbalances in my blood. Never thought I would have to worry about getting the same thing that killed my grandmother and great aunt before I finished my freshman year of college. I also have stupid fears, ones that I am worried will stop me from doing the things I love in life. I am just fine at public speaking, but going to the store to buy milk makes me start shaking. I still have not mastered the art of talking on the telephone, not even to my friends and family. Because I often feel afraid of people, I have a deep need to make others feel at home and comfortable. I want to be a teacher, I want others to feel the confidence I lack. I want to give you hug and tell you everything will be alright in the end, because even though crap happens (a lot), it’ll all work out in the end—just maybe not the way we would have hoped.

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• 526 • I met my boyfriend online. I know, I know… weird, right? I didn’t think much of it either, but we talked every night for months after that. Strangest thing, we just had the most amazing connection. I have never felt anything so close to a soul mate before. Last month, he flew here to visit me and I lost my virginity to him the first night after smoking some weed. I know that everything about that sounds wrong, but it was actually the best way it could have happened. We fell asleep that night in each others’ arms, and he asked me to be his girlfriend the next day. Sure, the distance is torture, but I love him, and I’m very confident that its mutual. I laugh at the thought of ever wasting my time with any other guy in the past. He’s so different, I’m never worried that he’ll hurt me. He’s planning on moving here for me. After that, we’ll work on marriage. Having been so fortunate to have love put before me in the most fate-controlled way I’ve ever experienced has brought me hope for the future. I hope you’re just as lucky as I am, just keep searching and you will find love.

• 527 • I’m 20 years old and in love with a guy who will never love me back. We have been screwing each other for three years now, and he is my best friend on the face of the planet. I tell him everything, and I can trust him. He also happens to have a girlfriend of three years. Yes, I’m the other woman. He tells me how he loves spending time with me, but that he feels the same way about his girlfriend. I wake up every morning and my first thought is “maybe today will be the day he tells me he loves me.” I know what I am doing is wrong, and I know that I should have more self-respect and walk away but I can’t. He treats me like shit but I love him too much. I had a pregnancy scare, and when I told him afterwards he told me that he couldn’t fuck me anymore because “he wasn’t trying to be a dad anytime soon.” I recently made-out with someone else, and he broke up with me. I strayed a step and he has a girlfriend, yet I’m the one who fucked up? Yes, I did. Now I’m alone with no best friend or boyfriend. Trust me, when you have friends with benefits, there will be no benefits in the end.

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• 528 • Who I was: For a long time I refused to love. I purposefully disconnected myself from others, completely unwilling to give them any piece of myself. Not loving gave me strength. I was not vulnerable; I protected myself. Relationships were weaknesses and so were emotions. I was untouchable. I felt complete in the strength I had created. I wasn’t. Who I am: I realized the importance of connections with others. I began to see beauty in relationships and expressing emotions. I have experienced freedom in the vulnerability that is created when you care about someone. Today I am scared. I am scared that I do not know how to love. My boyfriend wants to marry me. He tells me he loves me; sometimes I know that I love him. I am afraid that neither of us will be able to make the sacrifices needed to make our relationship last forever. I want this to last forever, but I am afraid because I don’t know how. I have never given anyone any piece of me.

• 529 • I don’t know what to do with my life. I am 20, so I guess I have some time, but I’m really confused. The things I am interested in don’t have real jobs. I am a sophomore in college and my high school sweetheart and I broke up a year and half ago but remained really close “friends” until recently he started seeing this other girl. My heart is broken. I really love him. I know that we aren’t meant for each other though and I just have to trust God that he is preparing someone for me that is absolutely perfect for me and loves every little thing about me. That’s what I need. But really what does she have that I don’t? Why wasn’t I good enough for him? I’m afraid I’ll end up alone, without a job or with a job I don’t like.

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• 530 • My wife said she wanted a divorce and demanded that I leave the house after discovering an email I had written to a friend in another state that was inappropriately intimate. Sometimes it seems we have spent the decades of our relationship fighting about one thing or another—that I have had eyes for other women, that I don’t make enough money, that it is a sometimes unbearable burden living with a person suffering from depression. And yet, I find myself thinking: If only we had fought that hard for intimacy, rather than to have our pain acknowledged, what then? It seems to me that couples fight for one reason, although it wears different masks—to say, “I want you to acknowledge my pain.” Are we all of us—this world full of fighting lovers— simply trying to set water on fire and make it run uphill?

• 531 • I’m a seventeen year old girl who doesn’t want to stop being childish. I sometimes feel like my life has no set path, and most times I can’t answer when people ask me what I want to do after high school. But you know what? That’s okay. I can’t see into the future, and if I could I’m sure things would be a lot less adventurous. But if I had to wish, I would say that I would want to live my life being awesome, respected, and free. Money? As long as I get by I’ll be fine. I want love, happiness and a peaceful environment to live in. Is that too much to ask? Is that the right thing to answer for what I want to do after high school? I’m already blessed with happiness (for the most part), love, respect from friends and for the most part a peaceful state of mind and environment. I wouldn’t mind living like this for the rest of my life! Can I do it?

• 532 • I am in love! I am thankful for his existence, and I smile all day, probably even in my sleep. No matter how long and harsh the coming winter, I am in love! No

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matter what happened in the past, what the future will bring, this moment is, my unexpected, beautiful, inspiring present! I am in love!

• 533 • Today was exceptionally good… and bad… and… erm… well… I like tattoos. I’ve got seven finished and one in progress; I started the 8th today. Now, I’ve been talking about getting my whole arm tattooed for years. I’ve been talking about it for longer than I have known my boyfriend. When he and I met, I only had the upper part of that arm done. So here we are, a year and a half later, and I got the second part done today—the forearm. The line-work is beautiful, the artistry is superb and, according to my boyfriend, it’s too big. He says I am changed. He says I didn’t take HIS feelings into account. When I got back from the tattoo shop at 4PM, my boyfriend was still in bed. The apartment was dark. My key in the door woke him and he said, “Let me see it.” After looking, he got out of bed, put on his shoes, and stormed out. What I would like to say to him is, “it’s my arm.” My art makes me happy. I am still the same person as I was ten hours ago. It’s my arm. The tattoo has not changed the essence of my being. Did I mention that IT’S MY ARM? I suppose it comes down to this. The last straw. If you can’t love and support me for the things I love and need, then what are you doing here? IT’S MY ARM. IT does not belong to you, and neither does the rest of me. Now, get out of bed and help me do your laundry.

• 534 • I’m a recovering heroin addict who is separated from his wife and child. All I want is my family back.

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• 535 • I’m 23 years old and I live in Houston. I might be an idiot, but I’m an idiot who is in love with a 28 year old man in Boston that I have never physically met. He came up in conversation over the weekend and my mother smacked me and told me that I wasn’t an idiot, but I was acting like one. I should know better. Maybe I’m a fool, but I’m a fool in love.

• 536 • My parents are swingers and I’m sixteen. I don’t care about that though. I love my parents. It doesn’t bother me that they are in love with another couple. I like them too. I’m worried that this might mess me up—that I’ll get unrealistic ideas of love. Or that my friends will find out and not like me anymore. Or that someone at school will find out and spread it and then I’ll become even more of an outcast than before. I don’t blame my parents. But sometimes I wish my life was more normal.

• 537 • I am 18 years old. I have always been mature, responsible, had a good head on my shoulders. In high school I scoffed at people who claimed they had met their soul mate. You’re sixteen, I would say. You’re not mature enough to make those kinds of decisions. Then I met the love of my life. He is all the things I’ve ever wanted, and all the things I never knew I needed until I had him. I want to marry him, to know that we will spend our lives together. I feel like a hypocrite. But I’d rather be a hypocrite than make the mistake of refusing love. I don’t believe in waiting to get married for the sake of it looking better in other people’s eyes.

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• 538 • I am 22 years old, still a virgin, and waiting for the love of my life. I just want to live an influential life, share my passions with my wife, share my perspective with others through my photography and travel and listen and show others love throughout the world, by connecting with them in the most random of ways. This is my dream for life.

• 539 • I love him more than anything else in the world, but if someone gave me five thousand dollars, I’d run away without him.

• 540 • I find it hard to tell someone that has brought you back to life that they have become a harmful person, to you and themselves. I find it hard to say goodbye to a man that took care of me when I was ill and loves me, when I don’t feel the same way about him. I find it hard to tell a good friend that they are no longer good. But no matter how hard something becomes I’ve learned that by not saying anything it becomes worse.

• 541 • My ex-best friend destroyed our relationship through things she thought up in her head because she was afraid of the true honesty of friendship. I really miss her and wish I could be friends with her again, but I know it would never be the same again. Now, when I see her, I can feel the chasm between us and it makes me hang my head down and I feel heavy and heartbroken. I find it difficult now to trust people. I realize that she is not a good person or a good friend and has destroyed a good part of me, but I still love her for what we used to be.

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• 542 • I’m 18 and I’ve just gotten out of a long relationship. Thing is, everything was pretty amazing, but all of a sudden we broke up. The reason? Well, we both had trouble expressing our feelings and we never really said, “I love you.” People always question the reason of our breakup, telling us that we should still be together, since we looked so happy. Every day I wonder what it’s like being in love. I know I’m still young, but it baffles me to see my friends so happy, telling their boyfriends repeatedly how much they love them. I just don’t understand how can they say it so easily, when I’m terrified of using it without being sure of my feelings. What is love supposed to be anyway? Whatever the case is, I didn’t misuse the word, for me it’s very important to say it only when I mean it and therefore I’m saving it for someone. So, I hope I get to know what love is… someday.

• 543 • Awareness sets in… I’ve found new meaning to why I should write more often. It gives me a grasp on my life and how I feel about it… I seem to lose myself every now and then and I think writing consistently would help me stay on track. Things haven’t changed much as far as my daily life goes, and that’s something that has been slowly hacking away at my happiness. My life is hardly different from when I stepped out of high school. I still have a job I hate, I don’t like my living arrangements, and I’m starting to feel somewhat dissatisfied with my love life again. I’m highly disappointed with my progress… I expect more from myself and I’m failing to deliver. Sure I can support myself… which is one of my goals… but I’m not financially comfortable yet. My job doesn’t pay well enough for me to be proud of or to even find some form of enjoyment from it. I feel like I haven’t been true to myself and my needs. I want to just drape myself in everything I love to somehow feel closer to the person I really am.

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• 544 • They never tell you that you can easily be left with a life of mediocrity. You can be a person who never finds love. You can end up just getting through the day, then just getting through the night and then starting it all over again and again and again. You start out taking it for granted that you will find love, have a family, find interesting work and your faith will always be with you. Everyone else does it, no problem… of course you will too. Years later, alone, no kids, working in a cubicle. You realize that you’re an atheist and shocked you ever believed all that God stuff. You also realize you’re a romantic that will never know love. How did that happen again? How did that happen? It wasn’t supposed to happen to me… not to me. You are now past the point of having “potential.” You have used up all your days of potential. You are going to live out your days with what you and the universe have created. Get through the day, get through the night, get through the week, get through the weekend… an endless wasteland of unchanging time, time, time.

• 545 • I sleep with a guy I used to love, maybe still love, knowing that I’m not the only one and knowing that he doesn’t feel more than friendship for me. I don’t want to stop. He’s the only man I’ve ever slept with. I can’t have all of him but I don’t want to lose this last connection. It’s the only thing that allows me to be with him.

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• 546 • I’m 23 years old and have accomplished nothing. I haven’t had a job in five years. I don’t have family, at least not family I can rely on. I have no home I just drift from one relationship to another. I just got out of a three year relationship with someone I considered my best friend but I can hardly look at him. I left him for his best friend. Everything is strange. I thought, when I was younger I knew what love was. I am an “adult” now and I’m not sure. I just don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to have OCD or panic disorder. I wish I didn’t have to rely on these stupid meds that I can’t afford anymore. I wish I could relate to people and not cats. I wish I knew for certain if he loved me… why does every decision I make feel like the wrong one? Would I even know if I was doing something right? I hate other girls. I hate trying to keep up with the world. I hate the way people treat me. I hate people. I hate. One day I’ll wake up from a long over-due sleep, where the air just feels right, and the light breaks into brightly colored fractals that dance on my eyelashes, and every breath I take has meaning, and for once, I’ll be OK with myself.

• 547 • I’m so fucked up. I am fat, but it’s weird because I don’t always see myself that way. It’s like I’m in denial half the time, and binge eating out of depression the rest of the time. I hate it, and I wish I could stop and become one of those gorgeous thin girls, but I really don’t think I have the ability. I don’t

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think it’s possible for me to be happy until this happens. I want to be in love. I want to have a guy think of me all the time and want to be with me. I want to have someone to hold me and hug me. But I don’t think that’s possible because I’m fat.

• 548 • I am 31. I got married seven months ago to the wrong person. I woke up one day a few months after the honeymoon and realized I am utterly, deeply unhappy. I don’t love this man, never did, and never will. I am starting all over again and I feel like the luckiest person in the world. I can now set out to find the perfect person for me; the one man I would do anything for.

• 549 • I’m afraid that there is a lot wrong with me, I’m always cold, always tired, always dizzy, but at the same time I’m afraid that I’m perfectly fine. I know I have an eating disorder and I don’t try to hide it. I’m not sure how much of my refusal to eat is that I like seeing people really care about me and how much of it is that I fucking hate myself and I want to die, slowly. I know in my heart that I’m not disciplined enough to go into music, but I have no other options. Everything makes me cry, and yet I can’t stand people who cry. Still, though, I read these entries I wonder why people almost never have anything happy to say. I want so badly to be the one to have a happy heart warming story to tell, but no matter how hard I try to come up with one, I can’t. I’m fucking up my life, my relationships, and my friends lives, and I know it. I have an addictive personality but I’m too ADD to stick with anything. I can only ever complain about anything. I claim to hate everyone and everything because it’s easier, but I think I love everyone. I see people and wish I could be them. I wish I could be anyone except who I am. People tell me to change myself if I’m unhappy, but I don’t know how. I love you.

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• 550 • I’m a 21 year old female. I smoke and drink. People tell me I’m not normal, because I’m quiet, and not as social as they are. I’m fine with that, cause I’m in love with a boy. He’s the most amazing person I know. We’ve been “together” for almost a year now. Living together for about seven months. I love this boy. He’s nine years older than me, doesn’t look a day over 20, we don’t fight, we get along so great. We’re about the same level of retarded. I haven’t told him that I love him, I’m afraid of what he’ll say… or what he won’t say. I know he’s been hurt in the past, for the first six months he was still convinced I would get sick of him one day and make up excuses to leave him… That’s why we’re just “together.” I know he cares about me. He’s so sweet. The kind of person who takes good care of you when you’re sick. I tell him I love him when he’s snoring away at night, and after I close the door when I leave for work. I’m afraid I’ll say it in my sleep… or maybe I already have. Sometimes I worry that I don’t know what love is. But every time I think of losing him I get scared, and it’s such a powerful feeling that I believe in it. I believe in love. I hope that someday I’ll have the courage to tell him without fear. Even if he pushes me away, I want him to know he is loved.

• 551 • Throughout my childhood I would always hear my parents talk about stupid teenagers falling in love and being ignorant and self centered. I learned to have the same opinions and always acted more mature for my age because of it. The consequences of this are that whenever I think I like someone and they like me, I immediately reject it as ignorant infatuation and I keep turning down wonderful guys. There isn’t that many guys to pick from when you are a guy yourself, and I am turning them down.

• 552 • I’m 20, the weather here is hot and sunny (it’s June), and I’m typing on a laptop with very sticky keys. Something happened back in May. My mom came to see me and told me she was thinking about filing for divorce from my dad.

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I’d always thought that, however childish it was, that would never happen to my family. My parents loved each other and would stay together no matter how much they fought or how unbearable it was being at home with them. I worried and stewed and cried about it. I didn’t want my family to be broken. A week later my dad shot himself in the heart with a youth model 22 shotgun. He died before he hit the ground. There’s still shot in the garage door. If any of us were home, he might have taken us with him. I helped spread his eight pounds of creamy white ashes on our family farm 30 years before I thought I would have to. Looking back, I wish my parents would’ve just gotten a divorce.

• 553 • I’m terrified of the world I must attempt to live in. I have SO much love for everything. I understand myself, my path in life, but I just CAN NOT understand everyone else. I realize everyone has their own opinions, but when I see starving children, I get tears in my eyes, and I don’t understand how every single person in this world doesn’t feel the exact same way as I do. It’s amazing how things can CHANGE a person. Although there will always be pain, arguments, and disaster, we could still make this world so much better than it is now. How do I go into the world as a young adult, to this horrific planet of hurt and insanity, and try to change it? … I know that I’m going to change someone’s life, and try to even change the world… but because of that one fact: Everyone has their own opinions; we will never fully live the amazing life’s we could. If everyone thought of the possibilities and happiness we could accomplish by changing EVERYTHING in the world, it would be 100x’s better than it is now. Unfortunately, most of you suck.

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• 554 • I go through each day with the thought that I could possibly find the one I love if I keep looking, and every night I come home and listen to “Dark Come Soon” and hope my life will change. I have an amazing family, I get to go to a great university, and I have the most incredible friends in the world… why do I spend my life feeling alone? I know she’s out there, but until I find her I’m this sad chemistry geek queer girl with a tattoo fixation.

• 555 • He was my best friend. I didn’t know it at first, but I was completely in love with him. He showed me I could feel again. He showed me I wasn’t empty, and that vulnerability isn’t a bad thing. We spent summer just being young and in love. He basically lived in my apartment. Then fall came, I just got so lonely. I denied him a relationship because I thought I wasn’t ready. So I went on with my emptiness, trying to fill his void. 12 months later he has someone and seeing them together makes my stomach turn into knots. I confessed to him the truth, all my love and fear. I sat next to him in my car, just hoping this would play out like a movie, and he would realize we are meant to be. And that I see it now and I want nothing else. But nothing. He shook his head “no.” Turned to me and said “only time will tell. But I promise we will still be best friends.” Too bad its been a month and he hasn’t talked to me since. I just lost my other half. Who am I now?

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• 556 • He got married… to one of the first people who had the courtesy to be kind to me when I first moved here. A girl who dyes her hair red. The first person I ever loved, who I was in love with for over two and a half years, broke my heart twice. One not even two years after the first. I am a 19 year old with real vibrant red hair growing out of my head. What’s wrong with me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Many of my best friends are getting married around me, while I don’t even know where I’m going. I’m on my own. Sure, I have my boyfriend, but do I really want to stay with him for the rest of my life? Could we stand each other that long? My family just left me too. Mum got a new job and they left me here. Could I have gone with? Not if I wanted to make enough money to go to school next semester. I barely even get to speak to my best friends anymore, and only one lives near me. The ones closest to me are in different states, different countries even. I can’t even help my best friend of 13 years plan her wedding. I haven’t even met her fiance. I’m so lost, and so alone, even with the people around me.

• 557 • I am 19 years old and I am turning 20 on Friday. I have never been in love and I have never even been kissed. I lived with three girls this year and I have witnessed their love lives. I watched them cheat and be cheated on. I have watched them be dumped and break up. I did see the beauty of love—the excitement for a phone call and just the excitement of having a boyfriend. I was there as a quiet observer picking up the pieces of broken hearts and was there when they found love. I hate when they critiqued me on my love life (or lack there of). I’ve been told that I act like too much of a friend, I act like I have a boyfriend and several others that I could go on for. I think though, that at my point of my life, I am happy being single. I have a lot of things to sort out—I know I do—but I don’t know when I am done sorting it all out. I

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fear that maybe it’s too late for me, and I fear that I will be alone for the rest of my life. I think that is what my friends think, that since I haven’t found love that I will never find it and I fear that maybe I am their fears. Maybe they see the fate of loneliness in me. My question to anyone who reads this is when is one ready for the dive into love? To me, this crazy thing called love is out here for me somewhere. For now I just have to get to know me.

• 558 • If I tell you that I think your gray speckled green eyes are beautiful, I mean it. If I tell you that I am here to ground you, to give you a safe place to keep your secrets, to hold your hand when you smoke weed in the park, to sit in your car until 3am talking, to go with you on trips to haunted places only to not be scared but to be thankful I spent the whole night with you, to go sky diving off a building downtown, to sit on a bench and make you people watch with me, to lean in close and kiss your ear, to feel your reassuring hand on my back, to run my hands through your hair, to drive to your house and watch ESPN, to stay up late laughing on the phone, to talk about things we will never again say to other people, to feel you take my breath away, to let me fall for you, to allow me to love you and feel invincible for once, to notice you have changed, to realize you won’t be calling me tonight or the next night, to hear your voice at 9:30 in the morning saying that you want us to be over, to not let you know you’ve made me cry, to never talk to you again though it hurts and to let you know that I will always be here if you need me, though you probably won’t—if I tell you these things, I mean it. Unlike you.

• 559 • I’m 25 years old. I’m a lawyer with a masters degree; I’m currently single, but I think I may be in love with my best friend, so I try not to think about it by studying and working overtime, but when I see her I can’t help but think how sad it is when you’re not loved back. You can have everything in this world, but not the thing you really want…

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• 560 • I’m 20 years old and I’m in love with my best friend. Only problem is we are both girls, and I grew up in a traditional Christian home. I’m having a hard time accepting that I’m not straight but I’m having an even harder time accepting that she loves me too but we can’t be together.

• 561 • My husband is amazing. I am madly in love with him. I have been since I was 13. I am now 27. I used to day dream of us watching movies and playing video games all day together. We are doing that right now, I am clicking on stumbleupon, and reading a guide for Fallout 3. I think he is about to finish the game (I am so EXCITED)!

• 562 • I just turned 18 and have already considered committing suicide several times. I just could never bring myself to it. To everyone I seem to have the most normal of lives. A few friends and some family… I have overheard several people call me ugly behind my back and my parents call me ugly to my face. I have only been with one guy my entire life (get this, we’ve only kissed). A boy that I fell in love with since I was 15. He told me he loved me (a lie). He proceeded to cheat on me with four other girls. Fun. So I felt hideous. Even more so now. Then there was my best friend. After an entire year of denial, I told him I liked him. He told me that he actually loved me, but that there was someone else. Another girl who was “smarter, and prettier, but not nicer that me.” Awesome, again told I was ugly. The point is… I have held on. I know I can be something if I don’t let stupid people who won’t mean anything to me 15 years from now affect me. So I keep clinging on for dear life by a single finger. Do the same.

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• 563 • We dated for a year and a half. Six months of the relationship were wonderful. The first six months were marred by people from her past pulling her strings. Her heart wasn’t always with me. I accepted this, and her, because of the belief that love does involve work. She had never had a real support system in her life. She was a former pill addict, and had been in mentally and sometimes physically abusive relationships with guys in her past. I became a pillar in her life. I was the only one that supported her in all of her actions and endeavors. She became not only my girlfriend, but my best friend. The second six months were the best. I caught her in a lie, about a guy from her past. That marked the beginning of the end. The lies kept coming. Fights ensued. I still believed that I could make it work. She told me I had the patients of a God. She met a guy at work. His name began to come up in conversations. She became colder. Her phone was permanently on silent mode. It ended with a text saying that she was going to bed early, when she was actually at his apartment. She cried as she told me there was no one else, and that one day she would rekindle what we had. They were dating less than two weeks later. We tried to be friends, but the lies continued exposing themselves. Of the year and a half that we were together, I have no idea what is truth and what isn’t. It feels more like a movie I have watched than a past relationship.

• 564 • I miss my first love from when I was a teen. I know it’s normal to always have feelings for your first love, but it’s been 8.5 years since I broke up with him and I still think of him nearly every single day. After dating for three years, I broke up with him because his family was controlling and somewhat crazy… I felt that if we were meant to be together, then in the future we would get back together. I have been married now for six years and still the person who stays on my mind is my ex. I can’t get over my ex and I’m not sure I ever will. I just wish we could run into each other somewhere again… I just want to talk to him, hear his voice and hope that he’d tell me he can’t get me off of his mind either.

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I don’t understand why I can’t just forget about him… Do you think it’s true that if you can’t get someone off your mind… then maybe that’s the person you should be with?

• 565 • I’m too young to see the real world and I can’t do anything but wait for the last years of high school to end. I feel like I’m constantly walking in circles. I have HUGE dreams that my mom constantly crushes. My childhood was horrible and the few friends that know about it constantly feel bad for me, I don’t care I’ve moved on. I hate being in the car with my grandpa because I can just feel the wheels of his Lexus fly off the pavement into the center divide, and sometimes I just close my eyes and half hope it happens. 5th grade some girls were talking about how they wished to have their one true love who will stay with them forever, I laughed and said it will never happen because nothing like that EVER happens, they cried. I stand by that thought, and these last few years life keeps throwing these situations to make me fall in love and I keep running. I want to stop running and let myself love. I’m sorry I ran from you and made myself stop loving you.

• 566 • My best friend is EVERYTHING I want to be. He has the hottest girlfriend, he’s a super athlete (he committed to play division one lacrosse this year), everyone loves him, he has a six pack, and his future looks very bright. I’m a single, decent lacrosse player, no six-pack, some people like me, and I have no clue what the hell I am going to do with my life. I hate myself because of all of this and am worried about what I am going to do.

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• 567 • I can’t wait to leave here. I’ve been held down for so long that as soon as I graduate, I’m getting out of here. This small town is nice, but it’s not for me. I need a big city in a new country. That’s why I’m going to London. I’ve already started researching and there’s still two years before I can leave. That’s how bad I want to leave. The only thing that makes me sad is leaving her—the girl I became best friends with and fell in love with. The girl who helped me realize who and what I am. The girl who stayed up and talked me out of killing myself. The most amazing girl I’ve ever met. She’s the reason I came out to my parents even though she says we’ll never date. If she doesn’t come with me like she planned, I’ll be torn apart. But just like the quote from Paper Towns: “It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it’s the easiest god damned thing in the world.” I think that’ll be me. I’ll jump on that plane reluctantly, but as soon as I’m off everything will be okay. At least, I hope it’ll all be okay.

• 568 • I am an 18 year old, white, upper middle class girl. I have a roof over my head, I get to eat every day of the week. I have been lucky enough to live in an area with a great school system. I have also been suffering from major depression since I was in fifth grade. My school years were filled with pain and terrible thoughts. When you are depressed, every day is a fight against yourself for your life. Getting out of bed in the morning is one of the worst experiences if you’re depressed, all you can think is “Is it even worth it to do this anymore?” It’s not about being popular, being loved, or having friends. It’s about situations that you are in that you can not control. Sometimes it’s because a loved one died. Sometimes it’s because of a divorce. But for me it’s a chemical imbalance. One day last year I woke up in the middle of the night with terrible stomach pains and I couldn’t figure out why. I stayed up all night in pain and attempting to eat but I wasn’t hungry. I couldn’t eat because I was so depressed, but my body was demanding food. It was two days before I could eat. Then there were the sleepless nights, I would lie awake in bed for hours but sleep never came. I would also sometimes over sleep. It took me seven years to tell my parents that I needed help. Last August I finally stepped up and got the help that I really needed. It took months for me to feel

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just slightly better, and now that we have upped my dosage I feel way better. I actually want to go places, I’ve made the friends that I should have been making my whole life, I can finally breathe again. I am sure my depression could come back at any moment, the medicine isn’t a wonder drug my body might get used to it. But until then I will be living my life. This fall I will be going to college and then continuing on to get my Ph.D.. I just have to say to anyone reading this, if you need help, go get it. Depression isn’t something you can go through by yourself. I know, I’ve tried. If you do that then you will begin to wonder why you’re alive and it won’t be easy for you. Get the help you deserve, don’t suffer in silence. Don’t forget that there is hope for you. It doesn’t have to be like this for you. And I love you, no matter if you are depressed or extremely happy I love you.

• 569 • I think I have found my dream guy. He is everything I have ever wanted and he tells me he loves me everyday. I have not told my family I’m gay cause if I did they would disown me. Do I live a fake life, depressed but with my family or do I live MY life and not care what they think about me?

• 570 • I survived a suicide attempt a year ago. I have climbed back and am the happiest I have ever been. But now there’s this thing I have to deal with. And dealing with it (and sometimes not dealing with it) hurts like hell. I wish I wasn’t molested. It was just once. But it makes everything hurt now… But I will deal with it. And once I do, I will be stronger, prouder, and even happier.

• 571 • I’ve been in love with the person I met the first day on the job so many years ago. I always make sure he’s well taken cared of above and beyond. On the rare occasion he has touched me (4 times so far) I melt into pure ecstasy. I’ve turned down two very promising positions elsewhere because I can’t imagine a life with even a little bit of him not in it.

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• 572 • I just turned eighteen not too long ago, and the person I love rejects me on a daily basis. I hide behind bright colors that I wear, I write poetry, and hang out with people I barely know. Many things that I randomly do, like writing in this journal for instance, are just things I do to ensure my sustained sanity. Thank you for your time spent reading my anonymous memoir.

• 573 • I am truly happy. It took a long time, lots of changes, and a lot of hard shit to get here. I never thought I would feel this way. I never thought I would love life this much. I never thought this was attainable. I chose to be happy and I wish other people would choose it too. Life is absolutely amazing. As cliche as it sounds, I mean it.

• 574 • I love my mother, but I hate her. This duality is the defining point of our relationship. She doesn’t know I hate her, but she does know the vast majority of my psychological problems stem from her. How cliche. I once thought how freeing it would be if I could completely free myself from her, but I’m afraid of leaving my siblings behind. I’m even more afraid of what my life would be like if she weren’t in it. So, I sit and suffer in silence, thankful that I have her in my life at all. I am an emotional cutter. I remember her telling me when I was around nine years old that she wished she had killed herself. How dare she dump her problems on me?! I was only nine, but knew then that I had to be the one my mother leaned on. A role I did not and do not want. I love my mother, but I hate her.

• 575 • When I was five years old I thought Batman lived in my dryer. That Halloween, I was Batman. That Thanksgiving wishbone, I wished for a new Batman costume. I love Batman.

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• 576 • One day, I was walking back to my dorm in a bad mood. I looked up and saw a man heading in the opposite direction. In his hands was what appeared to be a live lobster. He held it the way you’d hold a cat, sort of under the armpits, and when he saw me looking, he raised one of its claws in a little wave (I waved back). This is why I love this town—it seems like, whenever I start to get really discouraged, the city of Ann Arbor steps in and says, “Here, have some whimsy on the house.”

• 577 • On the night of my first one night stand, I met the woman I’ll be with for the rest of my life. In the first fifteen minutes, I loved her. She would only be in my town for fifteen days. I asked her if she’d be in a full throttle relationship with me for that duration. We shook on it, and she agreed. It seems now the fifteen days will last a lifetime. Now I know that love is real.

• 578 • A week ago I was certain I could be strong enough to do it all. Despite constant fear, I found my state of panic as comfort, and the more chaos that ensued the safer I felt. I believed this was life. But then I found out I could be something I loved. I had a minor panic attack which taught me that my passions did not have to be my life. It sounds weird but isn’t counter-intuitive. I discovered in one day that my life is about finding many things to make me happy, and my job could no longer be my life. I have no idea what makes me happy, but for the first time I’m excited.

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• 579 • 1. I try to be cooler than I really am. 2. I don’t think I’ll ever settle down, even though that’s all I talk about. 3. I have finally found the love of my life, but I constantly want something new. 4. I kinda want to be a sell out. 5. I don’t drink pop because I think that really awesome people don’t. 6. I really hate everyone that I hang out with, but I keep them around to use later. 7. I feel that all the people I look up to eventually come out to be racist. 8. I want to be a man so badly, but I’m just a lesbian. Sometimes it gets to the point where I despise other lesbians.

• 580 • I would love to tell him how I feel, but I’m afraid of what he and all our friends will think of me. Plus, how could I love someone that my mother likes too? It’s the only thing we agree on.

• 581 • I always judged those people who took their friends’ boyfriends. I recently became one of those people. I know that what I did was wrong, and I know that everyone else is now judging me for it. I’m judging myself. But I cannot control the way I feel; I love him.

• 582 • I’m almost certain I have no idea what love is, but if I do, I know I learned it from him. I’m too young to feel this attached to him, but I feel too old for this young body. And he’s the only place that’s ever felt like home…

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• 583 • All my friends think I’m insane because they believe that I’m the only female in this world not looking for love. They believe that it is every girls intensions to find a “one true love,” settle down, and have a family, or to have unrealistic desires, dreams such as fairy tale endings. The thing is I may not be looking for love, or a “one true love” or even a fairy tale ending. I’m looking for a job in the pastry chef industry, that is my passion. And I’m not ashamed to admit that, because that is a realistic dream, that I can pursue and obtain, if I put my mind to it and work hard at getting to my ultimate dream. Is it really that strange for a female to not be looking for love? And why is it so difficult for others to accept that their hypothesis on females may be wrong, or at least flawed?

• 584 • I am 17 years old, and I have been with the same person for three years. He never ceases to amaze me. He is intuitive, intelligent, and affectionate. He’s fascinating and uninhibited and fiery. Most of all, he loves me dearly, more than anything else. But there is always a “but.” He is angering, frustrating, stubborn. I love him. I despise his apathy for others. But I love him nonetheless. How could I not? Others are, however, disapproving. He has no degree, no specialized occupation, no home to call his alone. He is atypical. He is unstable. He has been careless before. Will he ever leave this town? Am I expected to remain here with him? So on the advice of others, I flee to her. She is ideal. She is friendly and social. She is kind, but I find that she has no depth. She is lovely, but she lacks broader concerns. I can be with her, but I do not know if I can love her. I have made a grave mistake. I have lied to her. I have lied to him. I have told unspeakable untruths. The situation, I’m afraid cannot be remedied without suffering on both of their parts. I can only hope they will forgive me my foolishness, my weakness, my naivety.

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He is trapped in a house filled to the brim with depression and madness. He daydreams of being outside, of watching clouds drift across the winter sky. I want him to see me, to see us, there, floating as cirrus or cumulus above the earth. Just as he had once hoped to.

• 585 • I’ve had a lot of surgeries in the last three years. All due to sports. I push myself harder and harder. I’m only eighteen and I’ve already been addicted to vicodin after my second and most serious surgery. After going through two weeks of withdrawal and screaming at my friends I was back at pushing and pushing myself. Doctors warned me to stop, that I would be in a wheelchair by my 30s. I didn’t care. I ran harder and faster. Pushed through the pain. I didn’t care how much physical therapy I went through or how many surgeries. I needed my basketball. The rush, the teamwork, I love everything about it. Missed junior year due to a torn ACL, recruiting time. I told myself if I worked harder I’d still play. Now I’m in college. I don’t play sports. I can’t go anywhere without pain killers in my pocket. Still hold on to my vicodin for those “bad days.” I can’t walk to a day’s worth of classes without hiding my pain. Now I wonder, was it worth it? The pain is bad but even playing sports hurts too much. Was high school sports worth losing the thrill of running? Was it worth it?

• 586 • She has a boyfriend, she’s fucking me. I’ve never felt so used in my life. I know that I will never be with her, I’ll only be an object when all I want is love. Why does she keep coming back?

• 587 • After two and a half years we are ending our relationship and he is moving to Texas. He’s still my best friend and I still love him—I guess I was not ready for the commitment and the distance was too hard. It doesn’t feel fair though—like this is not how things are supposed to work. But who ever said

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life was fair? If I was just too scared, I hope some day that will change. Is it weird to hope we get another chance someday? I don’t really believe in “meant to be.” I wish I still believed in God, because then I would say “Well, it’s all part of God’s plan.” I would feel like there’s some sense to all this.

• 588 • I have never been to this town before. I came here to tell a woman that I love her. I let her go months ago and shortly after realizing my mistake I have been chasing her since. She says she’s moved on. I have been here three days already and she doesn’t want to see me. I’m trying to make the best of it. The only reason I sit down to write this is because it feels therapeutic. Four more days to go… I wonder if she’ll change her mind.

• 589 • I know exactly what I want to do with my life, and it’s exhausting to be around people who don’t… people who go out and party every night because they have nothing to get up for in the morning. People who refuse to get into discussions because there is nothing for which they are passionate. If there is nothing you’re willing to die for, why are you living? I’m doing everything right to stay on the path to becoming a journalist, but the downtime between the various tasks is eating me alive. I would particularly enjoy having a personal taskmaster to assign me things to do all the time so that none of these precious moments are wasted. It’s frustrating. Really, it’s that I’m scared I will be so successful that no one will want to be with me, that no one will love me or be willing to keep up with me, and that I’ll sleep with my laptop every night instead of a man I love. So maybe I’m waiting for a moment to sabotage myself and be able to blame it on all these people with no focus or drive. Sometimes I want to sit alone on the floor of an empty closet and rock out with my bongos for hours at a time. But there’s always something more productive to do.

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• 590 • “More than friends. Less than lovers.” I shouldn’t be sitting in my bedroom physically shaking over a man. A boy? I certainly don’t feel like a woman, but more like a girl. But I’ve never been in a situation like this before. The idea that someone can care about me but not be ready to be with me doesn’t make sense in my head no matter how many times I try to understand. I over-think and overanalyze constantly, driving myself absolutely insane. And apparently physically sick. The worst part is, the ‘me’ I’m presenting is the worst me possible… and that’s the me that is being marketed. Hey, wanna date me? I’m bat-shit crazy. Logically this is all so simple. If it’s meant to be, it will happen. If it’s not, it won’t. And I will have to move on. But in my heart it’s not that simple. So I don’t know what to do. For now I let myself mope. Soon, hopefully, we will have our final “what are we?” talk. I need that moment to be here now. I’m miserable. I know I don’t need him, but I sure do want him.

• 591 • Someone loves you. Be sure of that, and you’ll be okay.

• 592 • I’m 26 years old and I’m afraid that I’ll never reach the potential that I’ve been told that I have. I don’t even believe it myself. I live at home because I’m afraid that I’ll end up homeless and on the street. I’m terrified that I’ll never be loved the way that I give my love out to my friends, family, and ex-boyfriends. I’m scared to live my life the way I want to, not the way other people expect me to live. I want to scream out that I’m my own person, but all I can do is beat on that wall that’s between myself and every one else. Most of all, I’m scared of making changes.

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• 593 • … Fuck hope. We have progressed too fast without thinking of any of the consequences of our progression. No amount of hope or effort is going to save it and people who argue against it just show how truly blind they are. For every step forward we take ten steps back. Blame Disney. All is not shiny happy three fingered heroes. It is war, rape, religion, money, politics, violence, happy meals, consumerism, entitlement, the list goes on and on. We have neutered our instincts away. Everything is a distraction. Maybe we had the right idea years ago but it has been suffocated under the rubble of the disposable society. It may not be the fairy tale glossy ending we imagine but it is a truer view then we want to admit. We are the perpetual ostrich burying our head under the idea that if as a species we all love one another and pull together we will prevail. The sad fact is we hate each other and don’t know how to interact with each other than commenting on a blog or texting someone or updating our Facebook status. Fuck hope and fuck ourselves. We have pissed away the world and our species.

• 594 • I love my boyfriend. We’ve been together over a year and he is one of the kindest, most amazing and understanding people in the world. Seriously, he is the best. And I know he would never ever do anything to hurt me. But lately I can’t stop thinking about how much I would like to be single. Not to see other guys, but just to be by myself. The idea seems so freeing. For the past three years, I haven’t been single long enough to really get to know who I am. I am so different now than when I was 16, and I’m afraid I won’t truly find myself while I’m in a relationship. My dilemma is that there is no reason to not completely adore my boyfriend. He is absolutely wonderful, and my life would not be as blessed without him in it. People always say how jealous they are of our relationship. I know others around the world long to find an amazing man like him.

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Why do I think about throwing away something so special, something that shines so much sun on my life? I’m scared that I don’t know myself well enough to know what is good for me and what isn’t. I’m scared that he loves me more than I can love him. I’m terrified of hurting him, because that is the last thing in the world someone as great as he is deserves. I’m scared of staying and leaving. I think both might be a mistake.

• 595 • As much as I love Ann Arbor, I hate it when the religious people are standing on the corner belting out their bullshit. I just wanted to stop and make out with my partner, but our four teenage children are opposed to PDA. Us being lesbians does not matter to the kids. Only PDA.

• 596 • All I want to do is leave and find you. I think about it every day. But, when you left, you were so mad that I couldn’t save you. I love you, and I know you loved me. What happened? How did we end up this way? Why do I feel like this? And where did you go? You owe me $342.00…

• 597 • I’ve never been the one to take initiative when it comes to relationships. Drunken hook-ups seem to be the easiest—liquid courage is such a truthful lie; it doesn’t make me feel more confident so much as if I’m drunk I can use it as an excuse in the morning. It’s so hard to admit that you really like someone—that you’ve liked this someone forever, but because you’re so self-conscious and lacking some major self esteem you couldn’t go for it. I wish I had been able to just put myself out there because if I had then my best friend wouldn’t be getting married to someone that isn’t me.

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I don’t even have to see him every day, even after months apart at college he can make me smile, make me laugh. He makes me feel comfortable with myself and I love every second that I’m with him. Now I have to be happy for him, and I am happy for him, but so mad at myself. Maybe it still would have all turned out the same way, but maybe it could have been completely different.

• 598 • I’m as far as I’m going to get before I start coming back. It feels as if I’m repeating mistakes purposely so that I can feel bad about it, so I can have something to cry about. I feel bad about feeling bad about things. Maybe I just feel invincible. Maybe we all do. Maybe that’s why people do stupid things all the time. I’m really enjoying this day. It’s pretty lovely.

• 599 • I’m so lost. I don’t know how this has happened. I’m watching my friends pull away from the station; their lives have warmth in them, and love, and money, and I have none of those. In fact, what warmth, love, and money I do have I seem to be shedding and doing so fast. I looked at my pistol tonight, contemplated it, first time in a long, long while. It’s a .44 magnum, it’d do the deal, no problemo. The further away I get from these people, the more inviting it looks. Were I to do it, I’d cut them all out, cut them all off, get out of touch and get out of town, do the deal as a stranger in some area where no one knows me, preferably in a backwoods somewhere, no ID, just be done with it all, feed the animals after I’m gone; that’d be one thing I could do to serve this place, maybe I wouldn’t fuck that up. Being lucky enough to have Emily for a friend, that’s one of the few things I have left. Julie as a therapist, also—she pretty much knows it all, it’s a place I need not hide any of it. Probably I’d tell Julie if I were to wax myself, I suspect

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we’d be able to discuss it, she’d not get all foolish and jump up and down about it—it’s just a fact of life, a reasonable choice if this darkness keeps on tearing into me and the losses keep on stacking up. And she knows I don’t give a flying fuck about anything anymore, that if I decide to pull the plug I’m going to do it whether she gets fussy about it or not. A fine woman. A good therapist. People getting married. Buying houses. Publishing books. Living their dreams. Having solid lives. I’m doing all I can to not let them know, and I sincerely do wish them well, and I’m happy for them. That’s why I’ll get the fuck out of here if I do it, ease out of here in such a way they’ll not know. It’ll be like “Man, I wonder whatever happened to ________.” I’ve a yoga practice, a vegetarian diet, skinny-boy clothes, a worn-out, broken heart. I’m too scared to trust a woman again. Kelly was it, I just can’t open again, it’s all a load of heartache. I’m glad I have this place to write this. I’m sorry if it’s a drag to read; it is at least honest, please give me that. Luck in love is all that there is that’s worth a damn. I hope yours is good.

• 600 • I’ve been in love before. I thought. I was young, sixteen. I didn’t think I had it figured out, but I took it one step at a time. I thought he was everything I had been looking for but he kept proving me wrong. He wasn’t a bad guy, but I wasn’t happy. It took me a while to realize that I spent all my time in our relationship trying to change him, then getting upset when he didn’t change. I couldn’t make him live that way. I broke up with him after two years, and I crushed his heart. My heart was okay, though. I had been preparing it for a long time, I had been feeling it coming. I had been detaching myself from him. It’s been eight months and he is still in love with me. I see him sometimes and I know that inside, it’s absolutely killing him. I know that inside he feels to blame for our break up. It’s not his fault, and it’s not my fault. We just weren’t meant to be together. I’m in love again, but it’s different this time. It’s better this time, because I’ve learned so much on a lot of different spectrums. I’m determined to love

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this new man with everything inside of me and do things right this time. I’m nineteen now, and I fully believe I’ve found my husband. We’ll see how things go.

• 601 • I’m in love with this man, male, boy, whatever you’d like to call it. I’m in love. And it’s funny because I used to think love was so pathetic, I used to think crying over somebody who didn’t notice you the way you noticed them was pathetic, I used to think the ache in your heart when you fall so deep in love was pathetic. Everything that came with love was pathetic. And even sometimes I look at myself and think of how pathetic I am for falling in love with somebody and for crying over him and having this false hope that he and I will be together again. We dated before. It lasted three weeks and I ended the relationship because it didn’t feel right. I guess I wasn’t ready. I wanted to do things for myself, I didn’t want to be so dependent on this person. And now I regret it. I regret ever saying “I don’t love you anymore” and “I don’t want to be in this relationship.” And sometimes I think about how happy I would be if I’d just told him the truth—that I wasn’t ready then. But I’m ready now. I know I am. I think after some time, we agreed to be friends. But secretly he knows I love him. And he’s hurt by it because he used to love me too. And I know he’s confused, and I’m confused too, so I don’t blame him if he never wants to love me again. But thinking about it sometimes, and knowing that I’ll never have his heart, never be held in his arms, never kiss him, never be close to him, hurts. Yeah, it hurts. I’m happy right now. And I’m happy he and I have decided to be friends again. But it’s difficult to keep my emotions trapped. I wish I could be brave and tell him that, no matter what, I think I’ll always love him. I’ve never felt such a connection with a person before. And maybe that sounds cliche, and stupid, and I know that someday I’ll meet another man who I’ll be able to connect with, a man I’ll love more, but I’m not ready for that right now. I’m ready for his love. Not some unknown future love.

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But I guess this is life and sometimes things don’t work out. So all I have to do is keep breathing. Stay alive. I’ll be ready for someone new someday.

• 602 • I’m writing this with the pen I use every day at my dead-end waitress job. It’s my favorite—probably because hitting the touchscreen computer with it is a great way to unleash frustration. As difficult as the day can get, though, with orders being shouted and snotty college kids stiffing me on tips—I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m glad I didn’t give in to academic pressures. I’m glad I got out of my situation and am supporting myself instead of letting the system do it for me. I LOVE MY DEAD END JOB! I’ve never been happier.

• 603 • There’s a lot of s#!t I could talk about that’s negative. But I’d rather say that for the first time, a couple of days ago, I got over my ex-girlfriend who has had a new boyfriend for the last four months. I realized that you get to control your life, not someone that you love or used to love. Even though we may feel alone, separated, and unloved, we are many. By being and feeling different from society, we are connected, and thus, strong together.

• 604 • Recently my ex-girlfriend went on holiday to Paris with her new boyfriend. We’re still friends, and I’ve never been jealous or paranoid about her and other guys. But I found myself thinking about our break up, and realized why I tried so hard to stay friends with her. Because I’m still in love with her, and always have been. The day she dumped me, she thought she had made a mistake, and asked me to go back out with her again. Pride is a dangerous thing, it prevented me from going back to her, and I’m not sure if it’s a luxury or not to be able to say, but that has been the biggest mistake of my life. I don’t do much with my life right now, but talking to her

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makes it worth living. My advice to anyone reading this, is don’t let pride get in the way of something so beautiful. I love you Lauren, and I always will.

• 605 • I’m a 21 year old male college student. I fell in love my freshman year in high school. Every couple wanted what her and I had. She left me a year and half ago and promised we would stay in touch. I lost my best friend and soulmate. She literally will not even return a simple text message. I have and will compare every person I meet to her. Every day was agony knowing that she was smiling her smile with someone new. However, I gained clarity a week ago. Love isn’t something you should miss when it’s gone. Learn to respect and admire the end of a good relationship. Chances are, the girl I fell in love with in high school isn’t the same person anymore. But I will never forget what she has given me. The greater the challenge, the greater the reward. Throughout my struggle with a broken heart I learned to be a caring and happy person. I learned to forgive those who hurt you the most, even if they don’t deserve it. People change. Such is life. Don’t hate them for it. Love them because they are human, and so are you. I find solace in that. And for once in six years, peace of mind.

• 606 • I’m 21. I moved out of my parents’ house a year ago next week. They didn’t think I’d make it a week. I’m going to school at a great university and I just got promoted to assistant manager at my job. I have a beautiful apartment and wonderful roommate who gives me more support and love than I deserve. And I’m happy. I’m more proud of myself than I’ve ever been, and that means more to me than I thought it could. Don’t ever let other people set expectations for you, because they’ll never get it right.

• 607 • I was a second semester freshman, feeling restless and stifled by the college life. I ran away from campus all of the time, to a nearby cafe. This particular day, it was raining, and I was the only one there.

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Soon, in walked an older—very attractive—man. “Why can’t I get guys like that?” I thought. Needless to say, he sat near me, we got to talking. I am 19, he is 32. I am restless, he is on the road. I am a straight-A student, he dropped out of school—twice. Anyways, he saved me. Showed me that in fact, college is not the only way. Life is not about doing what is expected or following a given path. I spent the semester with him, fell completely in love, dropped out of school, and am in the process of applying to Jazz schools. I want to study vocal Jazz and tap dance. See? Life is malleable. There is no right way. You really can live your passions. He is in New York, and I am in Michigan, but you never know where life will go! If you are restless, change your life! You can!

• 608 • I just turned 29. I am married and I have a three year old. I love my wife but she can’t seem to keep a job. I don’t know why it happens. She is smart and really good at what she does but she doesn’t make friends well and that plays against her. While I love her I can’t shake the idea of how much she holds me back. Always having to work a second job to help support us while she is looking for a job again. I want to go back to school and finish my degree. Then she could just stay home if she wanted. I am thinking of leaving her because if I stay I might end up hating her and I don’t want to hate her. I can stand the idea of not being with her more then I can stand the idea of hating her.

• 609 • My husband of 19 years divorced me because of another woman. I miss him, I still love him. He is not with the other woman but I guess he does not want to be with me. My life changed overnight, I lost everything.

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• 610 • I hate that I had a dream about you. We ate cereal and we were falling in love. I hate that I think about you and I’ve only seen you twice; once before we met and once when we were meeting. I hate that you didn’t talk to me and then found me online the next day. I hate that we love all the same music. I hate that whenever I go to the coffee shop you aren’t there. I hate that I haven’t had the chance to talk with you. I hate that when I say stuff to you online that you say nothing to me in response. I hate that you make me laugh. I hate that I am writing this about you. I love your sensitivity. I love that you were reading a book. I love that you are deeply fascinated by lyrics. I love that you are passionate about helping the hurting. I love your orangey-blond hair. I love your tattoo and your shoes. I hate that I am just now realizing that this closely resembles a song by Miley Cyrus. I love that I am letting this go. . .

• 611 • I wish something really terrible would happen to me so that I could escape my life. The people I love are so far away and everything is transitional and guys want things from me and the people I idolized are fucked up and the people that other people take at face value as normal people aren’t and nobody that I want can see how much they are wanted by me and I’m too much of a pussy to tell them how much I need them, and I want to express myself but I don’t want to monopolize and I feel like other people always know things that I don’t and I want to escape escape escape and I can’t can’t can’t and I need a job and feel on the verge of getting one but I’m not and I feel judged constantly and I used to be really unattractive but now apparently people like me based on the way I look and that’s fucked up and I’ve tested gifted but what the fuck is that supposed to mean and what’s the point of writing a poem to make your own problems seem more significant than they really are I mean existentialism is a bitch and nobody really matters that much. Nobody wants to hear my story because there’s too much to tell because I think like a firecracker—too much and too loud and make it stop make it stop make it stop everybody get away from me. I wish a car would run me over and kill me so that I could stop feeling like this. People tell me too often that I

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matter but why does that matter if existence is so painful and peculiar—so painful and peculiar that I wish someone would give me a male brain that had a disorder where I could stop thinking for days at a time. Then nobody would expect anything of me, no matter how pretty I was.

• 612 • I am just learning to be the man I’ve always wanted to be. I’ve been a heroin addict for three years and went to rehab 70 days ago. I am living in a halfway house and go to meetings and groups every day. I am learning to stop my people-pleasing behaviors and learn to be assertive. I am growing and trying to stay patient, humble, and tolerant. I am starting to love myself and only think in the present. Just for today. When I think about all that I’ve been through, I start to realize I don’t need to ever use again. Today, I live with no fear, being honest with myself and others, one day at a time.

• 613 • Last December I flew almost three thousand miles to see the man who I know will never love me in the same way that I love him. In all reality, it was the most expensive and ridiculous booty call I’ve ever had the pleasure of obliging to.

• 614 • I got married to someone 30 years ago and the only reason I did it and stayed with her was because she said she loved me (woohoo!! Someone loves me!!), I certainly didn’t love her. Even more, I hate her and everything about her, but I can’t leave because it will hurt her so much. I detest doing things with her, I’ve lost any friends I ever had because they can’t figure out what our situation is. I contemplate suicide every day, but never have the guts to go through with it. My passivity has ruined my life, I accept anything just to keep things on an even keel. I know things could be better, but I’m just a shit scared loser who’s scared to change.

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• 615 • I am seventeen years old and a sophomore in college. I’m not certain what I want to do with my life and I’m terrified that I won’t figure it out soon and my dad will be able to say that he told me so. In my mind, I’m thirty and teaching art to disadvantaged children in India. I just want everyone to know that they are loved with a Love unending and unimaginably powerful. We “Christians” mess that up a lot. I guess I do too. But really, what else in this life matters but loving each other? Without that, we have very little to show for.

• 616 • I am usually really nice to people I meet or people that I don’t like very much. But I am so mean to the ones I love. I don’t know why but it just makes me happy to see them being pushed around. I’m a horrible person. I wish I could change sometimes.

• 617 • I am seventeen years old. I am top of my class at my high school, all advanced place and college classes. I have a GPA of 5.56 and I speak two languages fluently, and learning a third. My dream was to become an Aerospace Engineer. ‘Was’ being the operative word, my dream has come to a complete stop because 11 years ago my parent brought me to this country illegally. I didn’t ask for this. Now, I’ll most likely be a waitress for the rest of my life.

• 618 • I am fifteen years old and have realized that I am in love with my best friend. She has a boyfriend and has told me that won’t change. I’m moving on now, and becoming interested in a guy who is five years older than me. She’s worried, but maybe now she’ll see that I love her. Yes, we’re both female. That terrifies me.

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• 619 • Three weeks ago, the man I thought I was going to marry left me. It isn’t his absence that bothers me. It’s the fact that I believed he was a good person and I was wrong. He lied to me about loving me, needing me, and wishing that I would be his partner. He was answering women online and seeing two other women, for how long, I don’t know… I always thought I could count on him but the only thing I actually rely on him for was being completely unreliable. I won’t be so naive next time, so goodbye, predator. Life will get back at you better than I ever could.

• 620 • So much to say, where to begin? I’ve always been a restless person. You know, the kind that knows there’s something more to do, see, or experience out there—so when I tell you that I’ve been raised entirely in the Southern United States, you might be able to understand why I feel trapped. So I got away. I ran to Japan for a month, loving every second of my awkward exposure there. It felt more like home than my birthplace ever did, as if just that month was more comfortable than the whole life I’ve lived elsewhere. But where my comfort begins, others stop. I’m engaged. We’ve had such a long courtship. Almost six years worth of being in each others lives, families, hearts. I feel drawn to this place, this land of the rising opportunity and change while my partner clings to our apartment, our family, our city. We live half an hour away from family and my partner feels that even this is too far. Loving this quiet person is almost a curse. This almost phobic shyness of people holds me back. It makes me feel like I have to settle when I could be winning at life. I’m sick of running with this sandbag of a person tied to my legs, but I can’t leave because it’s so painful to be alone. Without… him. Do I do what feels right for me, or do I stay because I love him?

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• 621 • I was on the popular random chat site called Omegle out of boredom when I got connected to a person from Canada. Two hours later we were still talking and I have never related to someone like that. It was such an amazing connection and we exchanged facebooks. I was a bit depressed knowing I would probably never get to meet him. In fact I was devastated I had finally met someone who was interested in what I had to say and not my bra size!!! And he was thousands of miles away and probably unavailable anyway. But I’m glad it happened because now I have hope that there are people out there that I can relate to. It’s funny how life works like that, falling in love with strangers.

• 622 • I’m alone. It frightens me and it puts me on the verge of tears whenever I’m reminded of it. I don’t think these feelings are strange, though. I’m 18, and I’m confused. When I think of myself like that everything feels normal. But it’s getting harder for me to imagine that’s the reality of my situation. Every time these feelings of depraved loneliness come back I look for someone who can remind me I’m not alone, and that I do have friends. I just don’t feel close enough to anybody to get that support, though. Why? Because I’m not the one that gets 5000 texts every month. I’m lucky if I get ten without being the one to prompt the conversation in the first place. I’m not invited to a lot of interesting things. I’m just a substitute for when people need an extra. People don’t trust me even though I never lie to my peers. I’m just an all around failure that needs to be reminded he’s not truly a failure. I am somebody important. I am somebody worth befriending. I’m going to get a Ph.D. someday. I’m going to fall in love someday. I just wish I could feel and know these truths with the same vigor I can speak them.

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• 623 • I am seventeen years old and feel like my life will never begin. I fell in love with a guy I barely knew; he left me a year ago for reasons unknown to me at least. I think about him everyday. I wonder where he is and who he’s with while still dealing with my life. In the past year I’ve lost almost all of my old friends but gained the best ones ever. Now I am talking to a guy who has a girlfriend. Half of me hates myself for it while the other half of me loves the way he’s brought the light back in my eyes. I don’t know what is wrong with me it’s like I’m watching my life from the outside as opposed to actually living it.

• 624 • I moved away from home to be with someone and every day I am miserable, lonely, and regret the decision… That was three years ago. I am in love with a married woman I met recently and she woke my soul. I have never felt more alive. I have never had more of a desire to create art. I have never loved someone as much as her. I was happy and I know she was too. We were recently found out and I can’t get over her. She chose her husband of course but I can’t stand to be with out my muse. I plan to move to her city to try and win her back. The only problem is if it wasn’t for my girlfriend of three years I would be homeless. I can’t take it anymore. I would rather be homeless than stuck in this dead end, uninspiring, and miserable life… the only things that I can talk to are my paintings and strangers. Thank you for listening and I hope you have a great day!

• 625 • I am 24. At 19 I married an abusive, destructive man. I had three children with him and one day I left. I left because I was afraid his illegal activities would hurt my children and I didn’t want them to think it’s OK to treat anyone the way their mother was being treated. It took a year for me to find a place to live. It took another year to find a job and in that year I had another baby. I’m working to care for my four babies and it feels like I will never accomplish anything and like I will never make enough to take better care of them. Realistically I know I am in a better place but I still feel like I am not enough and like I am not doing enough to take care of them. I gave him

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everything I had and I gave him my heart but now I’m alone. I feel hopeless about love and about everything.

• 626 • I wish I would have realized sooner that I can be a strong, independent, and successful woman without needing a man in my life. I’m lucky because I’m only 20 and I’ve realized this, but I still feel like I lost precious time thinking my life would not be totally complete without a man in it. Thank goodness I now think differently, I hope more women figure this out; and soon!

• 627 • I feel like my husband is keeping me prisoner. He’s jealous. I fell in love with another man, and I love him at the same time too. After my father died my family abandoned me, and my husband has never really experienced loss, let alone estrangement. He didn’t comfort me, he just wanted me to stop crying. Then I met this man who lost his mom. He has the same Myers-Briggs score as me, and the same feeling of being on the outside looking in. We connect. I was of course madly attracted to him at first, and journaled about it. I tried to do the right thing by sublimating those urges into homemade porn, etc. I assumed those feelings would fade, and they did. But my husband decided to read my journals and even went through my desk and found the porn. His jealous rampages are making me miserable, and yet he’s convinced I’m the one who’s done something wrong. I love my husband, but I feel like I’m in prison right now, and it’s making me hate him.

• 628 • My life has been a wreck off and on my whole life. I’ve spent time as an alcoholic, a social reject, a drug abuser, and a mean person. I used to think the mean stage of my life was the reason life was punishing me, then I realized one day maybe I was punishing myself.

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I now have a husband and a young son. My husband was diagnosed as a schizophrenic two weeks after I found out I was pregnant, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t go in the bathroom, look in the mirror, and blame myself. I accepted the facts and we are doing just fine five years later. Sometimes it isn’t a bad thing for things to be hectic, crazy, or a mess. I’m okay when everything is not okay.

• 629 • I really miss my best friend! She died suddenly about six months ago. I saw or spoke with her every day. We could talk for hours about everything and nothing. I have a loving wonderful husband and terrific children, but there is a void in my life that they cannot fill. I don’t think anyone ever will. She understood how things were without me saying a word. I miss the times we laughed until we cried, had conversations over glasses of wine, knowing we would always keep one another’s secrets. I miss your good advice and kind words of encouragement. I miss your laughter, especially when you were laughing at me!!! I am glad to have had you in my life and will endure the pain as payment. Rest easy my friend. You are sooooo missed!!!

• 630 • I’m pregnant! I never thought it would happen for us. Both my husband and I thought we couldn’t have kids. Both of us have health problems that we thought would prevent us from getting pregnant. Our health problems aren’t a big deal, they don’t really make a difference to our day to day life. We just never thought we could have kids. Yet here I am, pregnant! I found out March 17th 2011. St. Patrick’s day at 5:30am. I didn’t really think that I could be, I was so shocked when I saw those two little lines showed up on that little white stick. I walked into the bedroom to tell my husband. He sat up in bed already smiling. He said he already knew. He said he had a clue by how moody I had been but it was when he caught me eating a peanut butter banana sandwich with a side of tuna fish that he was sure. We told my parents who where surprised but very excited. I also told my best friend, my sister, my brother and sister-in-law. Other then that no one

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knows. We still need to tell my husband’s family but there is still a very high risk of miscarriage; so they will be the last ones we tell until I start to show. We don’t want to tell everyone and then have something happen and have to tell them all over again that we lost the baby. I don’t know if I could handle that. Not sure I could handle losing the baby at all. It’s strange though, even with all the risks I have a peace about it all. I don’t know what the future holds but all that seems to matter is our future as a family. I wont be a perfect mom but I’m going to try to be the best mom I can be. I know as long as we keep letting Christ lead our lives my husband and I will make it through the good and bad, through every uncertainty. How wonderful it is that life is so surprising!

• 631 • I had an abortion when I was 20. I have hated myself every day since then. I married the father of that baby. He has forgiven me. He has given me a beautiful life, with a little house, a silly dog, and another child. I never told him about the abortion when I was 20.

• 632 • I’m completely addicted to my phone. Constantly checking and rechecking it, looking at the time, but always glancing to see if anyone out there in the world was thinking of me, sent me a text message or what not. It’s a horrible obsession that I’m sure I’m not alone in—this constant hope that people like you, care about you. Sure, family members care, friends care, but… for some reason I’m not comfortable enough to not be told that every day. Or to feel like someone out there can’t be without me, can’t stop thinking about me. It’s just the most human trait I have… that desire to be wanted. To be loved.

• 633 • I don’t love you. I just love the way you make me feel.

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• 634 • I’m fighting for happiness, because I want to love him and make him happy. We’re both 19. After five years he is still my only true happiness as I sort through the confusion of my youth and struggle for identity. I want to give back to him what he has given me: security, hope, and love. I want what he has, clarity, joy, and an understanding of selfless love. We are young, but he has more wisdom than many adults. We have more love than many marriages. Perhaps it is naive, but if this isn’t true love then I don’t want it. Depression, I am finding, is not an illness, it is willful ignorance of the painful facets of ones self. Pain and confusion has to be dealt. It has to be analyzed, understood, acknowledged, and learned from. Happiness is obtainable, and there are far more reasons to be happy than to live life trying to escape living. We can never be truly happy together if I can not learn to be truly happy on my own. He is my reason to fight through the pain. He is helping me find happiness.

• 635 • I won’t have a job after I’m 50. By then I will be legally blind. This scares me. I won’t be able to use the internet or see the beauty in the world. The only reason I haven’t killed myself yet is I’m hoping for a cure. If I didn’t think they’d find it I would’ve shot myself by now. My family doesn’t love me and my friends don’t care enough about me. I don’t care if they would miss me. The thought of never being able to see again is enough.

• 636 • My name is Tali. I am 21. A recently discovered gay woman. What I have been working on recently is not knowing things. I have spent my life thinking I had myself and the world all figured out. I don’t. For the first time in my life I can say that I feel emotional and personal growth. No intellectual bullshit. Real fucking emotion. The type that you have to lay in bed, cry on the street corner, and fuck random people to process. The type that oozes from your conscience, subconscious, and heart all at the same time. I just broke up with my first love and for the first time in a long time, I feel like a raw, real

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human being should. Open-ended, beautiful, unknowing, and entranced by the delicious ambiguity of NOT KNOWING.

• 637 • I had a miscarriage three months ago. I’m an 18 year old college student. I feel horribly guilty about it. I was just hooking up with a friend, I had no intentions of getting pregnant. When I found out I was, I wished it would just go away so I wouldn’t have to tell him. And then I had a miscarriage. I have never regretted anything so much in my entire life. When I told the dad, he stopped talking to me. I’m completely alone and hurting more than I can handle. I just want an out.

• 638 • My son died. It now defines who I am. I am a man whose son has died. It has been a little over four years and sometimes I still think I see him. One quick moment, out of the corner of my eye, while I am occupied in some other way, any other way, I think… “It’s…” But of course it’s not. It can’t be. He is dead.

• 639 • A few years ago, I went stargazing with some friends and two boys who were roommates. We all stretched out in a field and I lay between the two boys holding their hands. Shivering, we talked about everything and nothing, ghosts and fireflies and the moon falling to earth, and our ideas were sweeping and drunken and lovely. We talked as if it we were saying our last words to the people around us. By the end of the night I was half in love with both boys, even though I hardly knew them. I ended up dating one and becoming close friends with the other. I fell in love for the first time; it was a heady, exhilarating rush, like being in the center of a storm. But occasionally I would wonder if I had made the wrong choice, and would really be better off with his roommate, my friend. Sometimes it felt like I WAS dating him, the three of us completed each other so perfectly. When the romance cooled after about a year, my boyfriend and I broke up. His friend helped me through it. I realized I might like him, probably always had.

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A few weeks ago, he and I were hanging out, and we ended up stargazing again, just the two of us this time. We found shapes in the clouds, and made wishes on fireflies. I couldn’t help but feel that everything had possibly maybe finally come full circle. We stayed out ‘til the sun rose, and ended up sleeping together as the last of the stars burned away. It was lovely, wonderful, confusing. I just got this text from him: “No more hooking up, keep it just friends?” I really wish I could write a different ending to this than that.

• 640 • So I met this guy at my work. He is 40. I am 16. I’m in love. He has two kids, a wife, and a dog. He claims that he has feelings for me, but I think he is lying. Sometimes I wish I never met him. Sometimes I wish he would pick me. I’m stuck… he’s stuck. I quit. Why can’t it be easier? WHY. His kids will never know… his wife will never know… but I will never forget. I want him to care for me, but he only cares if I’m horny. On the real, it is getting old. This is what I have become—an almost home-wrecker. I’ve always been a liar, but this has reached a new low. I thought I was a good kid, but maybe I’m just going to become a mediocre, home-wrecking girl. Not even a woman.

• 641 • I am so thankful of what I’ve been able to achieve for myself. Never cease to be proud of what you’ve done, who you are. That’s the greatest feeling.

• 642 • I’m 53 years old. I reconnected with a younger work acquaintance the other day. What’s new with you, I asked. Oh, she said, I travelled the world, met and married my husband, progressed up my career ladder, and now am expecting my first child. And you? I said… um… well, I said, I actually haven’t done anything except get deeper in debt, to the point where I could no longer afford to live in my own apartment and had to move into a friend’s house.

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Oh, also, I said, I’m old now. And I’ve gained weight. I can’t stand the life I live right now. None of my dreams came true, I’m running out of time, I drink far too much, I don’t seem to have any get-upand-go, and I’m living in a friend’s basement, for gods sake. I just want to run away and begin again. But I don’t want to leave my daughter and her children, although they seem to feel mostly indifferent about me…

• 643 • I am 20, a college student and just got myself a part-time job after a long recession and slouch in the country’s economy. I’ve been in a relationship with the same person for six years and couldn’t be happier. Two years ago I thought I’d never be accepted into college, I was in debt with no hope of finding a job, and all of the stress and anxiety was taking its toll on my personal relationships with everyone. I realize now that I’m still young, life is short and there is always a rainbow at the end of the storm, you just need to hang on under that little umbrella that is hope.

• 644 • I love natural disasters in which large amounts of people die because the Earth’s population is too high.

• 645 • I’m donating blood today. Hopefully it will save someone else even though it couldn’t save you.

• 646 • Is it true that once you cheat you are always a cheater? My best friend found out that her boyfriend had been cheating on her for months, after everyone else had found out. She was devastated. A few months later, I cheated on my

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boyfriend. I had seen first hand what that would do to a person, and knew it would tear him up, but I did it anyways. I did not think, I did what I wanted to do and pushed reality away. After a few happy weeks, my life crumbled and I tried to do damage control. I know I did wrong. I know I hurt so many people. I don’t know how my friends can trust me again. My best friend, the one who should hate me for being like her cheating boyfriend, still loves me. That boyfriend is gone, as is the other boy, and the heartache and pain was not worth it. But I would do it again. Sometime the shitty things in life, who’s ever fault they are, are necessary. If I never got with the other boy, I would always regret it. Regret for a thing done is better than always wondering what might have been.

• 647 • The other day, I realized that having sex makes my body react the same way as when I’m having a panic attack. My breathing shortens, I get cold and clammy, I shiver uncontrollably, my entire body goes numb, and I start crying. How about I go get a new life, one where you didn’t rape me and I didn’t have to see your face around the house every other weekend? A new life where I could actually enjoy sex, or being in public, or meeting new people, or expressing myself somewhere it might be found and related back to me? How about that? Wouldn’t that be nice? Hmm? I think it would be pretty fucking awesome. I’m never going to enjoy sex, or art, and art is what I live for. No wonder I have mental problems. Fuck you, you know? Fuck you.

• 648 • I cheated on my husband numerous times and held it inside for eight years. When I finally told him I felt so empty and free. In the end it caused me to lose him and my children. Sometimes I wish I would have never told, but it was eating at me like a cancer.

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• 649 • I was so afraid to tell him my true feelings that I ended up doing something even worse to hurt him, much worse than I would’ve if I had just told the truth. That fear stems from all the little bits of repressed feelings; every little emotion I’ve ever held from him and everybody else. Could he ever forgive me, I don’t know. I know I can’t forgive myself for letting go of it so easily, for tricking myself into thinking that what I have done was completely unnecessary and wasn’t essentially wrong at all. I am so afraid to let anyone else put that kind of trust and devotion in me now because I know that I will do the same thing, over and over again, as experience has shown me. This is a cycle of ending madness, of lies and more lies to cover up. I hope I’ll learn to break out.

• 650 • I want to live a lifestyle different from everyone I know. I want to have nothing but what really actually matters. I’ve spent years spending hard-earned money on shit that fades and does nothing for my soul but deepen the hurt. I wish I could be completely devoid of emotion and to be free of everyone to do whatever I please. I think this for two reasons: I went to the doctor recently and she told me it was a miracle that I wasn’t on the streets and addicted to coke after all my use. I’m bipolar and people judge me like shit. I’m not crazy‚ it makes life beautiful. At times I can experience the most intense wonderful emotions and at times I can’t even think. It’s numb. I have to go to therapy. He thinks I need to be in it for the rest of my life. I have recently gotten to know a God full of grace and hope and love and he has given me more freedom than any thing or person. I wish everyone could know Him but I am afraid to tell them and have them think I am crazy. There are so many things I wish to write but can’t, sadly enough I do not have the strength and will take them with me to the grave where I will decompose and come back to life as a birch tree. I’m going to do something great. I’m going to live a life and not let things pass me by. I will not become a zombie.

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• 651 • My dad just died. I didn’t like him very much but still, it’s kinda sad. It’s neat that you’re sitting here in front of the cafe. I thought I was going to have to tell you in person. They’re playing the Magnetic Fields right now on the radio. I think it’s 69 love songs, I can hear the ukulele and the electric cello and stuff. That would be a good soundtrack to the film of us two sitting on the sidewalk, talking and not talking.

• 652 • A couple weeks ago, I considered killing myself by crashing my car into a tree at 60 MPH or taking 10 OxyContin. I stopped it, again, convinced that being fat wasn’t enough of a good reason to take my own life. I watched a video of my four month old niece on my cell phone, and it may have saved my life. She giggled, and I broke. I cried. I thought of all the things I had ever had done to me, things I had done wrong. I hate myself. I decided a long time ago that being fat made me less of a human being and left me without being a woman at all. Any man that could love me would have a fetish, and I would lose him with the weight if I tried to make myself happy. I can’t even look other people in the face. I know they’re thinking: Lazy. Gross. I know they wish I would die. Sometimes, they don’t realize that they make me want to drive into trees. It’s not their fault; it’s mine. For not stopping this before now. Before the scale was a gun and my life was gone. I am bulimic now. There. I finally said it. I am also an atheist, even though I hope I find God out there one day in the form of a hobo with a booze problem. Maybe between making out with the toilet bowl and being scared of death, I’ll find a way to live. Happily ever after.

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• 653 • My boyfriend does not think I am interesting. That’s just because we had completely different childhood experiences. I don’t mean to be this way, but I have too many responsibilities and financial concerns to be as open-minded. Hopefully one day we will meet in the middle. One day! But I still love him. He makes me the happiest I have ever been.

• 654 • I fell in love with a girl last year. She has big, almond-shaped eyes that are brown, and she hates that they are brown because she thinks brown is boring. She is beautiful because she likes to sing in public and wear clothes from her grandmother’s closet and because she LOVES listening to Lil’ Wayne. She taught me so much about myself—about how good it feels to share a walk or go to a fancy restaurant for crepes and talk about Westward settlement and the dead-end at California. She is always caring about the whole world’s loneliness on her slender shoulders and will not let it down, she will not give up her burden for anyone or anything. I told my mother that I was dating her and my mother told me that I’m not a lesbian—she told me that it’s different and that I’m still in love with Andy and that I’m just taking my love elsewhere. I’m no longer dating her and I still think about her every time I talk to some employee behind the register, because she used to do that and I always admired her for making human moments everywhere she went. She used to break into show-tunes and dance like she was in ‘Chicago.’ I will probably never be close to her again because I hurt her so much, and I’m not in love with her anymore, but she has affected me permanently. Falling in love is the most important thing I’ve ever done.

• 655 • I’m only 19, but I’ve been with more guys within the past five years than years I have been alive. Sometimes I look back and feel dirty. But the more I think about it, the less I regret. I used to be picked on, a lot. And when someone expressed that they wanted me it made me feel special. I was used by a lot of them and fell in love too easily, and also got hurt. I was always the one that

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would be broken up with, that would be left. Maybe I was too emotionally needy, who knows. But the more I got hurt the more I realized how stupid I was being, always picking the wrong people. Then I got hurt again, physically this time, and it took months for me to leave. So now I will always have a wall up, I will never be wooed by some sweet talker, never let some guy who I know is not good enough stick around because of my insecurities. I won’t have it. And I’m happy. Which is all that should ever matter. Never think you’re not good enough, or that you’re not pretty enough or smart enough. And never go out looking for love, because it will find you when you’re ready.

• 656 • Today I have been sober for nine months. That is a miracle and if you know me at all, you know it is. I have been reminded that I need to keep gratitude at the top of my list lately. Lately I have been put in situations testing my program, will and spirituality. I feel I have escaped with my very life. If you know me at all you know that is true. I am sober nine months today because I will not allow this disease to kill me. I am fighting for my life every single day. You don’t have to know me to understand that. I am ever so grateful for so many things today. I am fortunate enough to have this chance to recognize that and share it with anyone I wish. First of all, I have a relationship with a power greater than myself. I have fought so hard to gain this for so many years, and now I know all I had to do was have faith. Have a little faith, and let go. It is liberating. To know I can let go of so many painful things and my Higher Power will help me get through it all. No matter what. All I have to do is KNOW that He will. And he does. I am grateful for this power in my life. Today I will not take Him for granted. I have a husband who has seen me at my worst. He has seen me give up everything in this life. And not want to look back. He never left my side and I can only hope he never gave up faith that I would want my life back. I am grateful he is still by my side. Sometimes I am unbearable. Sometimes I am a raving bitch and I treat him unfairly. I am growing as a person and learning how to treat other people finally. It has been slow, but I will not take him

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for granted today. I will not take his love for granted. I do not deserve him and he knows it. But one day I hope to be a woman who does deserve him or maybe thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s not anything to do with it. Someone very close to me tells me we do not deserve the good things that happen to us, because we never deserved the bad. Either way I one day hope to be the woman he knows is right for him and makes him happy. Thank you for everything you have gone through and put up with through our marriage Kevin. I absolutely adore you. You are a reason I am here today. My children. They are so young and vibrant and special. They unfortunately have seen me at my worst as well. But today I have the ability to show them what a real mother is and how one acts and show them the love they need and the love they love. I love my children more than anything in the world and I wonder if without them this would be worth it. But it is what it is and thank God. My children have a chance now. I can help give them a life worth living and they will look back on one day and love. My children should have nothing less than the best chance at life, the most love ever, and the best mommy ever. And today, I have a chance to give them exactly that. I am healthy. I have irreplaceable, wonderful, understanding, true blue friends today. I am talented and am discovering just how much I have left to give. I have an awesome cat. I am beautiful even when I am ugly. I am here today. I have the ability to help others when they really truly need me. I have a new, simple appreciation for this beating heart, these seeing eyes, feeling skin, hearing ears, tasting tongue, smelling nose! It all works and I love it all. I have all of these things no thanks to me. None of this is thanks to me. It is thanks to my Higher Power. I refuse to take credit for these amazing featsâ&#x20AC;Ś I will however take credit for allowing God into my life and living His will,

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not mine. I also know a few simple suggestions that I have taken and they have all worked so far.

• 657 • My mother doesn’t like me. I’m 31 years old and can honestly say she could care less about me. I was raised by my grandparents. She never bothered to come and get me. She had money, a husband, and a house and never bothered. She never married my father and refuses to tell me who he is. I wish I knew who he was. Even if he doesn’t want to know me, I would like to know who he is. I sort of feel like an orphan. Now I have two children who will never know their grandmother and grandfather. I can’t understand how these two people don’t care that they hurt these little kids. I also have a daughter I put up for adoption. I sort of feel like I did the same thing my mother did, but I gave my daughter the chance of having a mother and father. I did a better job than her. I care. I am so proud of myself.

• 658 • When I was young I spent a lot of time in hospital waiting rooms. My mom was ill, you see, and so it was inevitable. Since, she has passed away and it’s been a long time since I have had to sit in those rooms with thin generic chairs and TVs eternally programmed to CNN. Now, though, I work in the hospital and whenever I pass the waiting rooms I have an odd sense of nostalgia, neither sad nor mournful, just simply nostalgic. An ache, perhaps, of something gone now. Then, I was so young that I didn’t know those rooms were supposed to be scary. So, even now, I have nothing but absurd ambivalence towards them; ambivalence and, of course, nostalgia. I don’t look forward to the day when I have to learn better of those rooms.

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• 659 • Teen Pregnancy—everyone looks down on it and doesn’t understand when your daughter makes a decision not to kill a fetus and take responsibility. My daughter was 16 when she told me. It was both devastating and elation. I told her not to go and do anything rash (i.e. Abortion). I took her to the doctor and she walked out of the room and she said “I can’t go with an abortion” like everyone was talking her into, she heard the heartbeat and she knew the right thing to do. We got through it—lots of struggles but all worth it now. Went through labor with her and she and Amaiya live with us. She is the best addition to our family she has brought so much. I’m so glad she made the right and responsible decision to take on her greatest job ever. So when you see a teen girl pregnant don’t look down on her. Look up to her for taking on such a lifetime task so young. I wish my daughter and Amaiya the best. I love them both and will always be there for them.

• 660 • I’m tired of thinking that rape is the biggest thing that’s happened to me. The truth is I’m more scared of what I’ve willingly done.

• 661 • I’ve never done any drugs. I’ve never smoked a cigarette. I’ve never consumed alcohol. I’ve never had sex or done anything sexual other than kissing. All of my friends have. I’ll be seventeen in three months. Should I catch up with them? Sometimes I just want to give in and throw away all of my morals. I feel so left out, so childish…

• 662 • I ache for the girls who hate/feel guilty that they are virgins. I understand that they wish that they could feel loved. But love comes in many different forms, girls.

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Sing from the rafters that you’re a virgin. For your virginity means that you are disease-free, that you have not been raped, and that you still have your innocence. Given that 3/4 of people have some form of a STD, you are incredibly lucky. You are beautiful and sexy and whatever man you choose, will be incredibly blessed you have you in his life. You are a creature unlike any other; I just hope you’ll realize it.

• 663 • Dear Sister, It has been so easy to hate you for the past seven months, it’s difficult to let you back in to my life now. Your act of betrayal was possibly to the worst that anyone has ever done to me, so you should not expect a simple apology to fix everything that happened. My sexuality is my own business; whether I choose to include you in discussions about my love life is completely my decision. And it is certainly not your place to include our parents. I hope you understand that now. Love, Your brother

• 664 • I had my first one night stand the other night. He was funny, passionate, ambitious, and beautiful. I was smitten and didn’t say no. He hasn’t called. I haven’t moved on. If I could go back, I’d do it again. Why did I let myself be fucked?

• 665 • I’m always trying to push him away. I think it’s a test. He hasn’t failed yet. One day, we’ll have children together. I know I’ll be a great mother. I’ve got that maternal instinct, and I’ve faced a whole childhood of severe abuse and

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come out on top, using my experiences to help others. Still, it’s impossible to remove that deep-down doubt—what if it’s true that abuse goes from generation to generation? What if, one day, I’ll hurt my children?

• 666 • I cheated on my boyfriend of three months with a boy I’ve been in love with for two years. My friends knew, and stabbed me in the back. To cover it up, I lied. I told everyone I’d made the story up so I could keep my boyfriend, whom I decided I actually couldn’t live without. I lost a lot of friends that day and I regret every mistake I’ve made that led up to where I am now.

• 667 • One of my best friends just died. I knew he was going to die before he turned thirty, but I still can’t fathom a world that he doesn’t exist in. I am going to buy heroin. I don’t know what else to do.

• 668 • I wish I didn’t still love the boy that betrayed me. I am with him even though I know I am not enough. We go to different schools, and we agreed to “keep things open.” But I am not open, I am devoted to him. I wish I was strong enough to leave him completely, but love is love. He is a wonderful boy, but he wants the college life too and fears he will be missing out. I don’t know how much longer I will be able to do this. Hurt everyday, wondering what he’s doing, which girl he is with tonight. I am broken because of him, and I believe that only he can put the pieces back together. Maybe one day someone will show me otherwise. Until then, I will count the days until I can see him again and have him be just mine, if only for a moment.

• 669 • I love my boyfriend. I’m afraid he will leave me someday so I support him completely. He treats me like shit, but I take it. I love him so much.

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• 670 • My best friend passed away when she was 16. I had been friends with her since I was five and she was four. It sucked to watch the happiest, funniest person I know go through chemo treatments for brain cancer. I’m glad she’s out of pain now, but that doesn’t make me miss her any less. That doesn’t make me okay when I think about holding her hand the day she died. A lot of people don’t see my hurt because I hide it. A lot of people probably don’t even think I really knew her or that they knew her better. But they are so wrong. Most will never understand what losing a best friend is like, and I never wish that upon anyone. I always wonder what she’d be like today, who her first love would be, what her job would be, how beautiful I know she would look on graduation day. I talk to her all the time and maybe it’s unhealthy but she was always that one person who knew what to say to me no matter what. I will never ever forget her, and one memory that is especially seared in my mind is when she was going through everything with finding out she had stage 4 cancer and I came over crying about family issues and she said “If you need me I’m here, and even if you don’t need me, I’m still here.”

• 671 • I don’t care if she’s a man right now. When she’s in bed with me, she’s all woman.

• 672 • I’m in love with him, like really in love with him. He’s the kind of guy that makes your heart melt and treats you like a princess. He’s perfect. Except we aren’t perfect—no, actually, everyone else isn’t perfect. Everyone else judges, interferes, fights, pokes, convinces, cheats—everyone else ruins perfection. It isn’t fair that I can’t just be in love, that age is SUCH a number that people want to tear you apart. Make you scream. Make you cry. Make you break up. How do you break up with someone you’re in love with? How can so much hurt come from so much love? I don’t know if I should do what’s best for me or what’s best for my relationship. Right now, I do not know anything.

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• 673 • So, I love this guy who is leaving for Afghanistan in 35 days. I cry myself to sleep every night wondering “what if he decides he doesn’t love me anymore?” I know he wanted his last few days here to be fun and stress free, so I don’t tell him. I never knew I could be so in love yet so alone.

• 674 • I have a great family. Mom is the most caring person I know (can con her way out of any bill or trouble she or anyone else is in haha), Dad is hilarious. Literally, never doesn’t make a joke. Older sister is the baby of the family which we all laugh about. If they died though, I guess I wouldn’t really miss them. If one of my parents died I’d be more concerned about money issues than I would be concerned about the fact that my parent is dead. If I had to choose a life with just my family or just my friends, I’d pick my friends in a heartbeat. Does this make me a bad daughter?

• 675 • I’d like to start by saying, I’m not sure why I’m writing this. Some form of catharsis, maybe. Maybe because it has abruptly worked it’s way into many of my recent conversations. Maybe it’s just that time of year again and it’s just naturally on my mind more and more, but I think it has something to do with this particular birthday. 21, you know… a milestone. But ever since I was two years old, it hasn’t been just MY birthday, and it still isn’t. I was born on that day of that month, 1989. My sister, Alexa, was born on that same day of that same month, 1991. SIDS took her away that same year.

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My parents have suffered the loss of a child, a loss that I can’t even begin to comprehend. All I know is it must be like a dull ache in a place inside that I have yet to discover… and it’s a pain that will never ever really go away. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for a parent to outlive a child. My parents have been more to me and have loved me more than I can even begin to describe. They love me more than they love themselves, and as I get older, the more I can begin to fully realize the depth of their hearts and their characters. As I got older and began to talk to my parents more and more about our life together as the four of us, I realized just how amazing they truly are. One often hears stories of the loss of a child resulting in divorce in a lot of cases - overwhelming guilt and blame: “If YOU would have been watching her.” or “If YOU wouldn’t have been at work.” or “If YOU wouldn’t have laid her down for a nap that way.” You name it, and the excuse is always followed by: “THEN MAYBE THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED!!!” Maybe. But my parents, in the midst of the greatest heartbreak of their lives, found something to be thankful for. They said that since Alexa died at the babysitter’s rather than with one of them at home, they never had to deal with that - the subconscious resentment towards the other that could’ve torn them apart. They loved each other more than ever, and their family too. The baby sitter and her family still remain one of my family’s closest friends. Their love overcame the poison of blame and resentment and I can’t help but admire them now when I see how their joy and love for life is in no way stained by what they’ve been through. I couldn’t ask for a better rock in my life. It’s weird, you know…

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I live with a girl now who was also born on that same day of that same month, 1991. In all our excited chatter about our upcoming birthday, I can’t help but look at her and hope to see Alexa. She’d be turning 19 now. I wonder if she’d be here, if we’d be close, if we would look alike. But I look at my family now with my two younger siblings: I love them more than anything in the world, and I find it more difficult and more heartbreaking to imagine life without either of them. I guess it’s just one of those times when I’m realizing just how lucky I am. Lucky to be here. Lucky to have people who love me. Lucky to have made it to this age. It’s one of those times when I look back and have absolutely no doubt that there is someone or something else out there who’s on my side, on OUR side, and therefore, I suppose “blessed” is a better word. I am blessed.

• 676 • I was raped and when I told my parents they didn’t believe me so they kicked me out of the house. During those days when I was most alone, sometimes I wished that my parents would feel the hurt I was feeling. Now they’re on the brink of divorce. I can’t help but think that my stressful situation brought it upon them.

• 677 • I’m a 21 year old female. My brother shot himself in the head four years ago. He saved my life because I wanted to commit suicide because I’m a lesbian. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about him.

• 678 • Teach me how to love and I’ll learn to appreciate what’s good for me. Teach me to be patient and I won’t run as soon as I don’t get my way. Teach me what the world is really like so I can handle it better when I’m older. Teach me everything you know so that I won’t end up alone, scared sitting in a corner.

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• 679 • My girlfriend did not make the smallest effort to comfort me when my dog died. He was my best friend. Every day, I miss him. Since that day, there has been a thin but unmistakable wall between us. Each summer day builds it bigger, higher, as I feel like I must run away as she lurks inside, unwilling to experience the outdoors like I yearn to. I miss my dog.

• 680 • I came out when I was in 7th grade. I am about to be a senior in high school. Last February, I went to a LGBT conference. It was the first time I had ever been surrounded by people like me. I felt an incredible sense of community. One night, I was in an elevator, going to my room, intoxicated. A woman raped me. It was an incredible betrayal—my own community. Last week I shaved my head to “rid myself” of the memory. It didn’t really work but I still feel freer. I do not feel like a victim, I feel like a survivor.

• 681 • My sister tried to kill herself last year and ended up in a pysch ward. I slowly drifted away from her because I was not only upset at what she tried to do, but mad at her. I believe that if I drift away, I won’t be as hurt when she is successful at it. Does this make me not only a bad sister, but an awful human?

• 682 • Last year, I cheated on my husband with a man I hadn’t seen in 13 years. It did nothing but reaffirm my love for my spouse and remind me that there is nothing like the coming home to a man who loves to love you. I was absolutely wrong to do this, but I am very thankful for what I have discovered. I will never look elsewhere for the love I have at home.

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• 683 • When I was ten my dad died of a heart attack. My mom raised me all by herself. I thought she would always be around. I’m 27 now, she is my best friend. On March 1st, she was diagnosed with a cancerous brain tumor, out of no where. She is in hospice, and will probably die within the next week. I’m so sad to know that she is leaving me… I’m not sure if I can make it without her. I don’t really believe in God, but I’m thankful to whatever higher power there is for giving me two wonderful parents, and a mother who is so strong. I’m hoping she passed some of her strength and courage on to me… hopefully one day I will have a family of my own and will have daughters and can teach them to be independent, strong women… Why do bad things happen to good people?

• 684 • I rode a 16 hour train ride to visit my best friend for thanksgiving. I am so thankful we have each other.

• 685 • I honestly can’t say I feel that strongly about anything… well maybe that’s a lie. I’m 15 years old, and pretty much confused out of my mind. I feel like I might be bi… but I don’t know if that’s just the hormones talking…? I want to tell someone but there’s no one to tell… and what If I tell someone and then I’m wrong about what I feel… then I’ll just be a joke. Life is soooo complicated. And I’m just getting started.

• 686 • Where I live is mostly cold and gray. Days blend into nights and every morning comes unannounced and at its own particular time. By that I mean as soon as I wake up I get up. Waking up usually comes anywhere between 4:00am and 7:00am. I had to quit doing everything that I really liked doing because my health took a dive into the Marinas trench. I have CAD, Seizure disorder, Type II

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diabetes, asthma, gout, and a list of other minor body failures. I am 59 and a Vietnam veteran. Agent Orange has triumphed over another innocent victim. I actually thought that I had escaped that war without injury. Silly me! On the bright side I do not expect that I will live very many more years.

• 687 • I’m 19. I feel like I’m already dried up. I feel like I have nothing left to offer this world. I’m ashamed of myself. When I was younger, I was beat, I was molested, I was told I was a nothing. Yet, I stood tall during those times. I’m not ashamed because those things happened. I’m ashamed because at seven years old I had more confidence and hope in myself then I do now, at 19. I have wonderful friends who are there for me when I need them. I honestly couldn’t ask for anything more. They are my angels. They are my reason for being here. I’m just afraid that I may not be strong enough to stay here for them. I wish I could tell them how dead I feel. I’ll continue to pray to a God I don’t believe in anymore for the strength and hope to keep living. I wish I were seven again. Being molested. Being hit. Being told I was worthless… I still had my whole life in front of me.

• 688 • It’s funny. I have everything. I have two parents who love me. A younger sister who annoys me. I have friends who care about me. A cat who sleeps with me. Grades that’ll get me into an Ivy League. Musical talent that will launch me into Carnegie Hall. I have my whole life ahead of me. But I’m scared. Scared that I’ll lose myself. Scared that I’ll die before anyone ever realizes who I am. Scared that the words I speak will never be heard again. I have filled notebooks, journals, scraps of paper, etc. with my words. They speak who I am. But no one has read them. Because they are mine. But I have no idea who I am.

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If I don’t know who I am, who am I? I have everything. But I am nothing.

• 689 • Have you ever captured a butterfly in a jar? The glass is clear, and they never know that they aren’t outside. Kept in a few square inches they’ll repeatedly run into the barrier under the impression they’ll escape. Isn’t it funny that you can be within sight and reach of what you want, and be stuck to the same binding? You can try and escape. It’s a gamble, but you are stuck and have already rolled the dice. We will keep trying—we are all nothing but butterflies in jars. But today I fell in love.

• 690 • I just read the entry comparing people to butterflies captured in jars. I’ve always seen catching butterflies as a metaphor for life too. Ever caught a butterfly and noticed the nasty dust goop everywhere? They are tiny microscopic scales sort of. When a butterflies wings are disrupted they can no longer fly and they consequently die. Today I fell out of love.

• 691 • So a few months ago I wrote you an entry about my friend dying and about how I was on my way to buy heroin. I figured that was maybe too brief and too dark so I’m writing you a new one. As much as I’d rather have Zach back more than the scraps of wisdom I’ve gained from his death, I think it gave me the final kick in the ass, after many very brutal ass-kickings, to make me say “enough.” Enough with the self-pity, enough with drugs, enough with the destructive nihilist lifestyle I’ve been living for years. It’s time, finally, to sort through the mental and emotional debris I’ve accumulated through this period and take what I can from it. Life is too short to settle for what I have been. I’m planning on going back to school next year, which is why I

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work at this coffee shop now. I haven’t done any drugs since the day Zach died and I’m spending more time on writing and music. Things are better. I think I’ve realized that this is the only life I get, and too many of my friends are missing out on it. I’m not settling any more.

• 692 • Today, I felt like I had woken from an uncomfortably awkward coma. When you’re eighteen and the hospital and mental health staff know you upon arrival and you know each other on a first name basis. That’s when you know you’ve screwed up. Less than an hour ago I decided I would never put myself in that position again. Last time I remember in perfect detail on the bathroom wall I kept numbers of how many pills I had swallowed, just to keep me conscious so I could swallow more. I got to 128 before I could no longer move my own body. Never again will I be that person, because I don’t want my friends to hate me like I hated my best friend when she killed herself. Good morning, fresh start. It’s nice to meet you.

• 693 • Today, in one sitting, I read every single entry posted in this collection so far and saved more than half of them to reread. What an extraordinary feeling to realize that other people know the world as you do. And how important it is to remember that you really know so little of the world after all. Embrace this life and this world as the greatest paradox never to be resolved. It’s all relative; it’s all fluid. It’s dynamic and unpredictable. I try to bend my mind and my heart and my spirit so I might understand it all more completely, so I might feel it all more fully, so I might be as close to truth as I can get. I can’t tell you what reading these stories did to me today, but it was profound. (I’m not one for hyperboles, so I mean what I say.) Maybe we’d be all each of us needs. Who’s to say…? For those of you who are ready to give up, I hope you don’t. I don’t think you should, but I couldn’t tell you why. But what if it’s coming? The thing

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that could turn it all around could come for you and you’d miss it and what a terrible waste that would be. It would be a fucking shame is what it would be. For you, and for the person you might be, and for whatever or whoever it is that’s being propelled to you. For those of you who have love and goodness and hope and joy and peace and knowledge and thoughts to spare, I hope you are fortunate enough to share them all with as many people as possible everyday. And I hope your goodness is never taken advantage of and I hope you’re never underestimated because you’re not suffering. For the rest of us, we lost and weary wayward travelers, live the paradox and love it, and spread some goodness when you can. Be flexible and open. I’m hoping all this will get us somewhere, because I really feel like we can all be okay. I’m a genuine person. I don’t expect to ever truly and completely understand another person, as I don’t expect to ever be truly and completely understood. But I feel the world so intensely. I shoot for empathy, but sometimes compassion, concern, or vicarious joy is all I can produce. Either way, it’s intense and it’s genuine. That’s where this is coming from. You’ll take it or leave it, but either way, I’ll still be hoping the best for you. Whatever it is. And whoever you are.

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CLOSING This project is only possible because of all of you. For those that have shared a story in the project, thank you for your courage and your trust. For those of you reading this now, thank you for taking the time to listen. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m looking forward to continuing to collect and share the stories, and I hope youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll join along in the adventure. Shortly before completing this book I received an email about the project. The moment I read it I knew I wanted to close the book with it. Thank you all for being a part of this project.

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• A Letter • I wanted to let you know that even though you don’t know it, your idea of the world changed my life a little bit. The fact that someone cares enough to hear so many complex and thought-provoking stories, many inflected with heartlessness and pain, and to bear it no matter what, is truly inspiring. Recently, I began a downward spiral that was the most terrifying of my life. I was put on medication. I began to pour out some of my life as I started sharing my stories on your site. The entire time that I was medicated my self-concept began to form around the promise of adventure, creativity, and positive energies that I finally realized I still had—they’d just been buried under a thoroughly abrasive lack of hope. I remembered that I had worth, talent. I found magic, and I chase it because now I know it’s there. When I felt so horrible and dreadfully alone I couldn’t bear it, I would share an entry on your site, and realized that the mere thought that someone was reading it and that all my painful experiences weren’t just brooding inside my skull made me feel like a worthy person. Story-sharing was therapy & transcendence—it reached out across all borders, smeared them away. I would share, and then I would let myself cry, bawl, etc. For years, I wouldn’t even let myself cry because it made me feel like even less of a person. I hated myself for it, and so some very unhealthy habits persisted and perpetuated a vicious cycle where growth wasn’t happening. It seemed like my mental illness and the painful experiences surrounding it were camping out in my brain and using my resources like a body-snatcher. The fact that it was anonymous made it even easier—no useless judgment calls from half-invested people or professionals who wouldn’t be able to fully handle or process my reality anyway. From talking to you over time, my suspicions that such a pattern of reading and recording other people’s burdens must take a toll were confirmed. I just wanted to say, I’m sorry. Some of the stories encompassing some form of suicidal thoughts and traumatic stories—those were from me. You’ll never know what they were exactly, but you should know that a face is on some of the stories you probably thought sounded helpless, because that’s exactly how I felt at the moment I wrote them—helpless. That’s not at all how I feel now. Well, sometimes. But way less than ever before, and everybody feels that way sometimes so it’s fine. I can also process that feeling like a pro now, kick the shit out of it. I just wanted to let you know that I would never actually do it,

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but the thoughts are there and when they were/are really present, sharing them on your site is/was undeniably helpful. Without a venue to share them anonymously, who knows how else I would have processed them? In the past, I processed them in very unhealthy ways, and the other week I realized that sharing my stories on your site marked a serious turning point for me. I know that’s what you’re slightly used to, but I also know that it’s hard and I wanted you to know that even though I thought so many times about doing it and even went so far as to actually purchase a firearm and imagine a funeral and write a note (and edit it, I edited it off and on while thinking about when to do it, but I obviously never did it, which is obviously a very good thing). I shared that on your site, and sharing makes the pain and aloneness stop, which is the same as blockading the trigger on any gun. You should just know that you’re beyond appreciated, and I’m myself now, my best self that I was so far from before, and of the people that I have to thank for it, you’re the only one I’ve thanked. Maybe that speaks for how you should remember that the mere opportunity to share stories is therapeutic and wonderful. I’m even really happy about where I am as a person in my life right now, which is a big deal. I feel like so many people arrive at that point so easily, but for me it’s been a long road and I’m really happy to be here and that you (and your project) entered my life at the point that it did. You’re a doll. You’re also clearly a creative and intelligent human being that the world needs more of. I’m sad that you’re leaving, and I just really wanted to let you know all of these things, I hope that it is reflective of your efforts to reshape the world, and that my feedback isn’t too burdensome. Thank you.

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