The Thing Is Some Girls Think They

What About When Someone Doesn't Need A Shoulder? What If They Need The Arms?

I Just Wish That God Or My Parents Or Sam Or My Sister Or Someone Would Just Tell Me What's Wrong With Me. Just Tell Me How To Be Different In A Way That Makes Sense. To Make This All Go Away.

I Wish I Knew. It Might Make Me Miss Him More Clearly. It Might Have Made Sad Sense.

So, I Guess We Are Who We Are For Alot Of Reasons. And Maybe We'll Never Know Most Of Them. But Even If We Don't Have The Power To Choose Where We Come From, We Can Still Choose Where We Go From There. We Can Still Do Things. And We Can Try To Feel Okay About Them.

On That Piece Of White Paper, Sam Wrote, "write About Me Sometime." And I Typed Something Back To Her, Standing Right There In Her Bedroom. I Just Typed. "i Will.