I came home for Christmas, and my sister Rachel picked up my journal and read my darkest thoughts out loud to the whole table like it was a comedy show. Everyone laughed. I didn’t say a word, I…
I was the one who read books in corners while everyone else played charades. I kept to myself, and for a long time, that seemed like enough. I learned to lock my door, to write in my journal at night when no one was around, to keep the parts of myself I cared about tucked … Read more