Suddenly it wasn't only a personal thing to me. I could picture hundreds of boys living on the wrong sides of cities, boys with black eyes who jumped at their own shadows. Hundreds of boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at the stars and ached for something better. I could see boys going down under street lights because they were mean and tough and hated the world, and it was too late to tell them there was still good in it...There should be some help, someone to tell them before it was too late. Someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people would understand then and wouldn't be so quick to judge a boy by the amount of hair oil he wore.
Suddenly it wasn't only a personal thing to me. I could picture hundreds of girls living in Suburbia, girls who are mean to themselves, girls who thought they weren't good enough. Hundreds of girls who maybe starved themselves and wanted to end it all and ached for a feeling of self worth. I could see girls dying of overdose and bleeding out because they were self conscious and insecure and hated themselves and the world, and it was too late to tell them that they were perfect how they were... There should be some help, someone to tell them before it was too late. Someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people would understand then and wouldn't be so quick to judge a person by the size of the jeans she wore