“Do they want to see me cry? Do they want to see me shake with rage? What do they want from me? What do they want?
But then a tiny unhatched voice from deep inside my brain whispers a different question: What do I want?”

“And I’m more than any of the parts of me. I am more than my good parts, and more than my bad ones. I am more than my mistakes. I am more than my memories. I will say these words again and again, like an anthem, like a prayer, until I believe them.”