It Took A Lot Of Work To

In A Way, I Was Almost Happy To See Her. The Worst Part Of Me, Out In The Flesh. Blinking Back At Me In The Dim Light, Daring Me To Call Her A Name Other Than My Own.

Everything Always Gets Crazy At The End. You Just Have To Keep Going, Regardless Of How Awful It Gets. So That's What I Do.

I'm Incredibly Flattered When People Tell Me That My Books Helped Them Through High School. Because Of My Own Experience, The Thought That Something I Wrote Might Help Someone Who Felt The Way I Did When I Was A Teen...that's Huge. It Awes Me.

He Was Looking At Me, Jsut As I'd Thought He Would Be, But Like Bert's, His Light Was Not What I Expected. No Pity, No Sadness: Nothing Had Changed. I Realized All The Times I'd Felt People Stare At Me, Their Faces Had Been Pictures, Abstracts. None Of Them Were Mirrors, Able To Reflect Back The Expression I Thought One I Wore, The Feelings Only I Felt.

And I Felt Comfort. Finally. All I'd Wanted For So Long Was For Someone To Explain Everything That Had Happened To Me In This Same Way. To Label It Neatly On A Page: This Leads To This Leads To This. I Knew, Deep Down, It Was More Complicated Than That, But Watching Jason, I Was Hopeful. He Took The Mess That Was Macbeth And Fixed It, And I Had To Wonder If He Might, In Some Small Way, Be Able To Do The Same For Me. So I Moved Myself Closer To Him, And I'd Been There Ever Since.