There's a part of me that isn't breathing. An important part. Like my bones, which are weak in the first place--I have about a third of the bone density a teenage girl should. This hasn't made things any easier. The world does not want me. I have known this since I was eight years old, maybe younger. The memories get fuzzy. All I want is to be so strong I can give hope to other people on this site. This is my goal. All I want is to be able to live up to the wonderfully blessed life I'm given. But I'm in pain and I can't. I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't. I think I did something when I was young. Or something happened to me. I don't know. I don't know I don't know I don't know. But a part of me knows. And that's why I have this mysterious impulse. Or maybe not. But I have it. And I've had it all along, since I was eight or nine or ten. I invented another world and pretended THAT was where I wanted to go, not heaven. I protected myself that way. Now that world is going to be a YA fantasy novel. My heaven. My dreams. Same thing. I'm scared. What if nothing's wrong with me at all? What if all of this is just me pitching a fit at God for not making me perfect? What if this really is ultimate brattiness? I think that's what I'm scared of most of all. Help me. Why do I want to stop breathing? Why am I rejecting everything I should love? Why, dammit, why? The most wonderful, soul-dazzling man in the world is in love with me. I have the dream. Requited love. With a hero. With the man of my dreams, goddammit. I don't want to feel this way with him by my side. It's like slapping him in the face. So why? Why why why why why??