Indirectly calls me attractive.

What now?

Oh, I see.

He asked me out?

Did he?

Talk about it tomorrow?

Okay?

Interesting?

I'm not entirely sure.

Life is a thing.

Certainly a thing.

Does he like coffee?

I think his sister is cooler than him.

So bad at spelling.

So bad.

Star Trek Into Darkness.

Romanesque Overview

Read

Aerosmith

Alan Menken (Tangled)

Alex Turner (Submarine Soundtrack)

Alexandre Desplat (Harry Potter)

All Time Low (Dear Maria, Count Me In)

The All American Rejects

Andrew Lloyd Webber

Animal Collective

Arctic Monkeys

AWOLNATION

Band Of Horses

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Beats Antique

Beirut

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Chase

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The Classic Crime

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Curtis Schweitzer

Cute is What We Aim For

Danny Elfman

David Bowie

Death Cab For Cutie

Die Prinzen

Elton John

Eminem

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Fair To Midland

A Fine Frenzy

Flyleaf

Foster The People

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Gaelic Storm

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Jersey Boys

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Journey

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Kyary Pamyu Pamyu

Lenka

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Ludo

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Margot & The Nuclear So and So's

Maroon 5

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Muse

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Neil Diamond (Sweet Caroline)

Neon Trees

Never Shout Never

New Politics

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Noah Gundersen

Of Monsters and Men

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Taking Back Sunday

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Train

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Underoath

The Used

Vampire Weekend

Van Halen

We The Committee

We The Kings

Wicked

Zach Sobiech

My mom sleeps deeply in her bed,

I lay next to her,

Even though I am well past two years old, 

In fact,

I am eight,

I am in third grade,

The only things I worry about,

Are whether the cutest boys, 

The ones who run the mile in 6 minutes,

The ones who all of the other girls like,

Whether they like me,

I worry about why I have to be fat,

Even when my mom tells me I will grow out of it,

I worry,

Because no boy is going to want to love a fat girl,

And I define myself by this,

I am the fat girl,

I am the girl no boy will want to love,

And I let them walk all over me,

Because I hope that if I give them my food at lunch,

If I give them my entire packs of gum,

If I do whatever they tell me to,

I hope this will make them want to love me,

Because I am desperate for the love,

The meaningless love of a boy in my class,

Most I no longer know today,

My mom sleeps deeply in her bed, 

I lay next to her,

Sleeping, too,

Until I feel a blunt smack on my arm,

Mom yelling for me to get up,

I have wet the bed,

Again,

I worry about this only at night,

I don't know why I still wet the bed,

Even when I am eight,

When all of my friends stopped at the age of three,

Why am I so different?

My mom yells words and curses, 

Changes the bed sheets in a blur,

And we are both, 

Soon enough,

Back to sleep,

My mom sleeps deeply in her bed,

And I am still next to her,

Sleeping,

Dreaming,

Breathing,

Until I feel harder smacks,

Louder curses, 

And I have done it again,

Mom yells at me to go to my room,

My room,

Painted purple, 

Where the walls are full of posters from the common trends,

My small, 

Short, 

Twin bed sits with no sheets,

No pillows,

And one blanket,

I lay in that bed,

Shaking,

Crying,

Wet,

Angry,

Confused,

Disappointed,

After eight years of my mother's unconditional love,

I still fear she will stop loving me,

All because I wet the bed,

I worry and wonder,

Why am I the fat girl?

Why am I so different?

My mom lays quietly in her bed,

I am downstairs on the couch,

I wake up and realize that I am late for school,

I am still fat,

Still different,

Though this time I am twelve,

Sixth Grade,

I worry about the same boys,

The same popularity,

The same lack of beauty,

My weight,

But not the fact that I am nauseous,

Dizzy,

And sick,

On that same day,

I am sent to the hospital,

With a rapidly changing temperature,

They stick my very body on a monitor to see what is wrong,

I am excited,

Excited for anything interesting to happen to me,

For people to worry,

To feel sorry,

For my peers to give me attention,

Well I am diagnosed with stage 4 Undifferentiated Sarcoma,

A giant Tumor,

Right in my abdomen,

I worry,

The first question I ask when they tell me,

Am I going to lose my hair?

That was the first and last time I ever saw my doctor look confused,

Why am I the fat girl?

Well, you have a tumor.

Why am I different?

Why do I have cancer?

Why, Why, Why,

All of these questions climb through my brain,

Blindly in the dark this news causes,

And I am a cancer kid,

I spend two years,

Two years going through chemotherapy,

Surgeries,

And I found that my mom was lying, 

She said I'd grow out of it,

But really,

This tumor,

This mass of negative propaganda and death,

Was growing out of me,

Pushing so hard on my organs,

On everything I need to function,

So hard that I was dying,

Not dying because the boys I liked didn't like me,

Not dying because I wet the bed,

Not even dying because I was too fat,

It was because of this thing,

This mass, 

That I was impregnated with,

That I carried around for years,

Without even knowing,

Like a time bomb,

As if I was a suicide bomber without even knowing it,

As if God strapped a bomb to my chest, to my stomach,

And told me to act natural,

Well I acted natural,

No, I didn't even act,

Because I didn't even know,

I was surprised with a tumor,

With a millstone tied around my neck,

As the world threw me into the deepest sea,

But the most disturbing part,

Is that I made it through, 

I somehow swam to the top,

Cut away this millstone,

And went back to school,

Not for my peers to be understanding,

Accepting,

Gracious,

Or kind,

But to question me and tell me that I have changed,

And I ask myself,

Why am I different?