“I thought that perhaps if I could cram myself into a small enough space, my brain would also be contained. Often, when I came home from school in the afternoons, I would drag my quilt from the bed to the closet, spread it over my shoes, and tuck myself into it in a fetal position. I felt I deserved to be poked by shoes and toys and whatever else I’d shoved in there by way of cleaning my room.”

— Stacy Pershall, from “Loud in the House of Myself.”