Because I've Heard So Many Stories That

As A Writer, My Only Responsibility Is To Tell A Compelling Story.

Rejection Always Hurts, But Having It Come From My Best Friend Was The Worst.

Josh Turns To Me. “i Can’t Believe She’s Writing These Things.” “not She,” I Say. “me.” “why Would Anyone Say This Stuff About Themselves On The Internet? It’s Crazy!” “exactly,” I Say. “i’m Going To Be Mentally Ill In Fifteen Years, And That’s Why My Husband Doesn’t Want To Be Around Me.

I Wanted People To Trust Me, Despite Anything They'd Heard. And More Than That, I Wanted Them To Know Me. Not The Stuff They Thought They Knew About Me. No, The Real Me. I Wanted Them To Get Past The Rumors. To See Beyond The Relationships I Once Had, Or Maybe Still Had But That They Didn't Agree With.

I’m Going To Be Mentally Ill In Fifteen Years, And That’s Why My Husband Doesn’t Want To Be Around Me.