I wish you knew how much you changed me.

“I know my head isn’t screwed on straight. I want to leave, transfer, warp myself to another galaxy. I want to confess everything, hand over the guilt and mistake and anger to someone else. There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs. Even if I dump the memory, it will stay with me, staining me. My closest is a good thing, a quiet place that helps me hold these thoughts inside my head where no one can hear them.”

—Laurie Halse Anderson (via wordsthat-speak)

(via wordsthat-speak)

“

She nods. “Cassie had everything: a family who loved
her, friends, activities. Her mother wants to know why
she threw it all away?”

Why? You want to know why?
Step into a tanning booth and fry yourself for two or
three days. After your skin bubbles and peels off, roll in
coarse salt, then pull on long underwear woven from spun
glass and razor wire. Over that goes your regular clothes,
as long as they are tight.
Smoke gunpowder and go to school to jump through
hoops, sit up and beg, and roll over on command. Listen to
the whispers that curl into your head at night, calling you
ugly and fat and stupid and bitch and whore and worst
of all “a disappointment.” Puke and starve and cut and
drink because you don’t want to feel any of this. Puke and
starve and cut and drink because you need an anesthetic
and it works. For a while. But then the anesthetic turns
into poison and by then it’s too late because you are mainlining
it now, straight into your soul. It is rotting you and
you can’t stop.
Look in a mirror and find a ghost. Hear every heartbeat
scream that everysinglething is wrong with you.
“Why?” is the wrong question.
Ask “Why not?”

”

— Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls, page 161. (via nothingbutsilencearoundme)