I Can't. You Can't Rewrite The Past.

This Was Not A Spurr-of-the-moment Decision. Do Not Take Me For Granted... Again.

My Breathing Begins To Slow. The Tension In My Muscles Starts To Relax. Then, A Click In The Headphones. A Slow Breath Of Air. I Open My Eyes To Bright Moonlight. And Hannah, With Warmth. Thank You.

Half Of Them Kept Repeating My Name, Trying To Get It Right, While The Other Half Laughed. But They Were Harmless. Fun Drunks Make A Nice Addition To Any Party: Not Looking To Fight. Not Looking To Score. Just Looking To Get Drunk And Laugh. I Remember Those Guys. Like The Mascots Of The Party. "clay! Whatcha Doon Here? Bah-ha-ha-ha!

As A Writer, My Only Responsibility Is To Tell A Compelling Story.

A Lot Of Authors See Their Book Being Banned Or Challenged As A Badge Of Honor. But For Me, It's Nothing But Frustrating And Upsetting. I Hear From Readers That My Work Encouraged Them To Ask For Help Or Reach Out To Someone About The Situation They're In. When You Hear Stories Like That On A Daily Basis And Then Hear Adults Call For Your Work To Be Banned, It's Proof Of Why The Stigma Around These Issues Is So Dangerous.