I Can’t Leave Now. I

What Is Wrong With You?' I Shake My Head. 'pull It Together.' And That's What It Feels Like: Pulling The Different Parts Of Me Up And In Like A Shoelace. I Feel Suffocated, But At Least I Feel Strong.

You Are Far Less Likely To Soil Your Pants And Cry For Your Mother If You’re Prepared To Defend Yourself.

When You're A Writer, You Hear Your Internal Critic, And That's Really Hard To Get Over. And Then Sometimes You Hear Critiques From Classmates And Stuff. But When A Book Comes Out, It's Just Hundreds Of Opinions And You Have To Learn To Separate Out The Ones You Want To Listen To Or Figure Out Many You Want To Listen To.

Do Remember, Though, That Sometimes The People You Oppress Become Mightier Than You Would Like.

We Share A Common Enemy, But Does That Make Us Friends?