Today, I sat on my bed shoving marshmallows into my mouth. I don’t even like marshmallows; I ate them because my mother told me not to. My mother sent me to bed without dinner because I refused to do my homework. But I didn’t refuse. I wanted to do my homework. I tried to do my homework. My body wouldn’t let me.
June 18, 2003
My parents are yelling; they are fighting about nothing, about everything, about me. I hear a crash; dad broke the window. They don’t understand what’s wrong with me. I don’t know either. I feel a wind pounding in my chest, aching to escape.
June 19, 2003


My mother came to my room last night. She said she knows their argument scared me. She hugs me and says she’s sorry. She smells like lies. I know there is something wrong with me because I don’t forgive her. Her apology only makes me angry. The anger feeds the wind. It pounds on my chest.
March 27, 2004
I am sitting on my bed. Crying. It’s a week before my eighth birthday and my cat died. I don’t understand why my cat left me. I thought my cat loved me. Now I am alone. Utterly alone. There is lightning in my heart. Lightning that stings and burns until I can’t feel anymore.
November 16, 2005


My class is writing stories in school today. Teacher says to make up characters to use in our story. I will write about the person inside me. She is Neela. She lives inside me. She prevents the storm from destroying me.
September 3, 2006
Today I slapped my mother. The slap sounded like thunder. It was as if the thunder in my personal storm had come out. I slapped her when I let Neela take control. Neela is the thunder. Neela is violent. Now my mother is yelling at me. I tried to tell her I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me. I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I did it. But it doesn’t matter what I say. I’m wrong.
January 30, 2009
My parents had a nervous breakdown today. My mother first, then my dad. Then they turned their anger on me. They told me I was worthless. I didn’t do my chores. I didn’t do my homework. They are not really mad at me; I’m their punching bag. I felt strangely calm. Even in the middle of so much contention, I had reached the eye of the storm.
Later, same day


My parents are still upset. I’m not. I found a way to calm myself. I won’t cry for them. Never again. I remember what is felt like when the blood ran down my arms. A sharp, almost burning feeling. It started small; then it grew into a crescendo. It was like all the bad feeling, all the pent up emotions were being let out. For the first time, I was free. Free from the tempest that lived inside me.
July 7, 2011
I’m angry. Neela wants to be let out. I won’t let her take control. I won’t let her hurt anyone. I cut my arm again. I catch the blood in my hand and smear in on the wall. Neela goes away. She leaves my body like the blood that flows from my arm. She leaves and she takes the storm with her. I wash the blood from the wall. The water bloats the smear of red. It looks like a flower. A red flower on a white cloud.
Today


No one understands me. That’s okay. They don’t need to. I can control myself. I can be normal. I kissed the scars on my arm. Perhaps I’m insane. That’s okay too. Everything is okay. Just okay. . .