“I cry to let everything out”

“Life is for the living. Don't let the fear of striking out let you from keep you from playing the game.”

“Mr. Freeman sighs. "No imagination. What are you thirteen? Fourteen? You've already let them beat your creativity out of you!”

“I drift into the armpits of strangers, tasting their manic salt, and sleep to forget everything.”

“I open a paperclip and scratch it across the inside of my left wrist. Pitiful. If a suicide attempt is a cry for help, then what is this. A whimper, a peep? I draw little window cracks of blood, etching line after line until it stops hurting.”

“The stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking didn't make her skinny, it made her cry.”

“Momma said that ghosts couldn't move over water. That's why Africans got trapped in the Americas.. They kept moving us over the water, stealing us away from our ghosts and ancestors, who cried salty rivers into the sand. That's where Momma was now, wailing at the water's edge, while her girls were pulled out of sight under white sails that cracked in the wind.”