They really were venting sessions and angry letters to God. I had a hard time speaking about my feelings, because I felt all wrong about them or that I would go to hell for thinking and feeling the way I did. So praying out loud about it wasn't happening. All I could manage to do was cry or scream into my pillow once everyone was asleep. I learned how to contain my emotions enough to avoid publicly crying. I didn't want to really TALK about anything because my memories said that TALKING about what I was thinking got me in trouble, or left people with that puzzled, tilt-head-to-the-side look.The truth is, I didn't want to live but I didn't have the courage to verbalize it. So I drew, but mainly, I wrote.

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