Kaydene and I carried on texting to
each other. I wrote in between texts. I wrote whenever I could now, I carried a
notebook and pen everywhere. I illustrated my poetry and songs.
My writing kept me going when I locked
myself in my room. Things weren’t going that well. Mom lost her temper over
every little thing. If I wore something she thought was weird, said something,
did something or even ate something she didn’t like me to, I was yelled at.