"I’m mentally ill. I’m chemically dependent. I’m eating disordered. I’m culpable. I’m contentious. I’m a vestige. I’m a ghost that has amnesia. I’m a nomad that can’t remember how she got here. I’m the stone you lay flowers before as some sad form of proof that you remember those that are gone. I’m bills that go unpaid on purpose. I’m the standard definition of spoiled/good girl gone bad/wasted potential/a parent’s disappointment. I am incoherent alibis and increasingly poor excuses. I am empty bodies/empty wallets/empty promises/empty plastic bags. I am the prescriptions we pray for. I am the addictions we pay for. I’m the year you don’t remember and the pain you can’t forget. I’m every cliche reason you have for hating yourself. I’m eighteen wasted years; All spent preparing to leave the nest, only to break my own wing at the last minute. I’m ashamed to say I think I may have done this on purpose."