I dohave a story. I wentskiing, neverskiedbefore. I slipup, myskigoes, and I startflipping, flip-flip-flipping. I hear a crackonmyneck. Oh, God, I thought I wasdead.
I wouldcomehomeandhideinmyroom, and, like, notwannatellmymomthat I wasgettingbulliedbecausethen I feellike a loser, and I wasscared. So I wouldbottleeverythingup. I wouldn't reallytalktomyfriendsoranyone.