Page 117 of The Glass Girl

“Yes, it is.” Charlotte giggles. “Please, tell us your issues, Bella. I’m all ears.”

“Shut—”

Fran holds up her hand, stopping me.

“Whatever problems you have, they’re yours. They belong to you. And they are just as big to you as someone else’s problem is to them. You can’t compare experiences,” she says. She takes a deep breath. “The problems in your lives are not going to go away just because you came here. We can’t erase them. We can only give you some tools to help you deal with them in responsible, healthy ways. You’ll live with what you live with for the rest of your lives. We’re only asking that you not try to drown your problems. Drownyourselves.”

“Wait,” Charlotte says. “You’re going to read the poem, aren’t you?”

Fran stands up. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Oh god,” Charlotte murmurs, closing her eyes. “I’ve heard this poem three times already.”

“Shush,” Nick says. “Let her cook.”

—

Fran closes her eyes and begins to speak.

Something happened to you

It was awful, it was traumatic

Or maybe nothing happened to you

Whatever it is, if it is nothing, or

If it is something, it’s still inside you

It still feels the same, a heaviness, a pain, a feeling of emptiness

It all weighs the same

So you smoke it down, or you choke it down

With whatever liquid drowns it quicker

You squeeze it into your veins to set you on sweet fire, burn it all down, burn it all down

You crunch, crush, mix it up, one on top of the other,

Four to twelve hours of bliss being NOT YOU

You become NOT YOU

But that is still you

Warped

Like a fun house mirror

Youare still in there

And whatever the thing is that happened to you

Or the nothing that happened to you

It is still there, too

---