"More than a stunning debut. It is the announcement of a bold new literary voice"
—Stephen Chbosky, author of The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I fuck up alot. Some little things, some big. I cry alot. Mostly for no reason. I have gotten use to it now. Turn up my fan, turn on some music, and stare at my ceiling crying. Im a quiet cryer. Which only makes it easyer to do. I don’t like taking about the future. Everyobe else has plans and dreams. I only have a pillow covered in tears and a cursed name. I never slept right. Always had trouble. I would stay up watching old movies like The Goofy Movie or Carebears. I never had friends until 4 years ago. I can’t remember many happy moments. The wind of deadly sleepless ness would take them away only leaving bits and pieces for me to try and fit together. Im happy now though. I have gotten better. But the sleepless nights still come. And still steal my happness like it’s nothing but steam from the lunch with friends I enjoyed but can’t remember.