Everybody Told Me To Be A Man.

Gossip Is The Foul Smell From The Devil's Backside.

I Just Want To Sleep. A Coma Would Be Nice. Or Amnesia. Anything, Just To Get Rid Of This, These Thoughts, Whispers In My Mind. Did He Rape My Head, Too?

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

I Make It Through The First Two Weeks Of School Without A Nuclear Meltdown.

Why Not Spend That Time On Art: Painting, Sculpting, Charcoal, Pastel, Oils? Are Words Or Numbers More Important Than Images? Who Decides This? Does Algebra Move You To Tears? Can Plural Possessives Express The Feelings In Your Heart? If You Don't Learn Art Now, You Will Never Learn To Breathe!