When I Was 8, I Was Reading

Is It Really Sick For Me To Be Happy Right Now?" I Asked. My Voice Broke Twice. He Didn't Push Me Away. He Pulled Me Tight Against His Ice-hard Chest, So Tight It Was Hard To Breathe, Even With My Lungs Securely Intact. "i Know Exactly What You Mean," He Whispered. "but We Have Lot Of Reasons To Be Happy. For One, We're Alive." "yes," I Agreed. "that's A Good One." "and Together," He Breathed. His Breath Was So Sweet It Made My Head Swim.

Your Hair Looks Like A Haystack...but I Like It.

Do You Have A Multiple Personality Disorder?

I'd Really Like Having A Couple Days Of Being A Rock Star, Although I'd Rather Be A Backup - Like Maybe The Drummer For Muse It Would Also Be Fun To Be Gorgeous, Like Be Charlize Theron, Just For A Couple Of Days.

He Shifted His Weight, Throwing His Good Leg Off The Bed As If He Were Going To Try To Stand. “what Are You Doing?” I Demanded Through The Tears. “lie Down, You Idiot, You’ll Hurt Yourself!” I Jumped To My Feet And Pushed His Good Shoulder Down With Two Hands. He Surrendered, Leaning Back With A Gasp Of Pain, But He Grabbed Me Around My Waist And Pulled Me Down On The Bed, Against His Good Side. I Curled Up There, Trying To Stifle The Silly Sobs Against His Hot Skin.