“Something really is wrong with me. And I don't know what it is.”

“I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like all I can do is keep writing this gibberish to keep from breaking apart.”

“I really want to be a writer but I don't know what to write about""You could write about us”

“As much as I feel sad, I think that not knowing is what really bothers me.”

“Are you okay?""Leave me alone, Charlie.""No, really. What's wrong?""You wouldn't understand.""I could try.""That's a laugh. That's really a laugh.""Do you want me to wake up Mom and Dad then?""No.""Well, maybe they could -""CHARLIE! SHUT UP! OKAY?! JUST SHUT UP!”

“I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am. And I don't want to them to carry it around inside. I want them to show me, so I can feel it, too. I want them to be able to do whatever they want around me. And if they do something I don't like, I'll tell them.”

“Then, Patrick pointed at me, and said something to Bob. "He's something, isn't he?" Bob nodded his head. Patrick then said something I don't think I'll ever forget."Hes a wallflower."And Bob really nodded his head. And the whole room nodded their head. And I started to feel nervous in the Bob way, but Patrick didn't let me get too nervous. He sat down next to me. "You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand.”