Why Had I Taken All

I Realized Michael Was Right. I Mean, I Am Always Writing In This Journal. And I Do Compose A Lot Of Poetry, And Write A Lot Of Notes And Emails And Stuff. I Mean, I Feel Like I Am Always Writing. I Do It So Much, I Never Even Thought About It As A Talent. It's Just Something I Do All The Time, Like Breathing.

When I Was A Kid, I Had A Couple Of Really Good Friends, Like Some Really Good Best Friends, But I Was Really Shy Other Than That.

All Of My Characters Are A Little Bit Based On People I Know In Real Life. You Know When You Do That You Have To Change The Character A Little Bit In Case Your Friend Or Your Relative Reads The Book, Because You Don't Want Them To Know You Wrote About Them... They Might Get Mad.

Don't Cry." "how Can I Not?" I Asked Him. "you Just Said You Loved Me." "well, Why Else Did You Think All Of This Was Happening?" He Set The Book Aside To Wrap His Arms Around Me. "the Furies Wouldn't Be Trying To Kill You If I Didn't Love You." "i Didn't Know," I Said. Tears Were Trickling Down My Cheeks, But I Did Nothing To Try To Stop Them. His Shirt Was Absorving Most Of Them. "you Never Said Anything About It. Every Time I Saw You, You Just Acted So... Wild." "how Was I Supposed To Act?" He Asked. "you Kept Doing Things Like Throwing Tea In My Face.

I'm Sorry, Heather, But Everything Was Not Just Fine Before I Got Here. You Know How I Know That? Because You're Dead. Okay? You Are Dead. Dead People Don't Have Lockers, Or Best Friends, Or Boyfriends. You Know Why? Because They're Dead.-suze Simon