(This review was originally posted at My Library in the Making.)Let me tell you one thing about this book: it is not about hope or enlightening. Not even a tad bit. It aims - at least I think it does - to grab the reader's heart and plug in a wire to connect with it, to unmask Dell's disappointments hidden behind self-deprecation and nonchalance. Unfortunately, it failed to make that connection with me.But that's not to say Empty was a failure. The prose was good, oozing with darkness and depression, befitting of Dell's emotional and disturbing life. The reason why it didn't affect me as much as I wanted it to was because, thankfully, my life's been very far from that. My parents didn't get a divorce, I didn't realize my dad hadn't really loved me, my mom has never been too wrecked to be a mother, my best friend is not becoming a stranger, and I am not filling any internal void with food. So instead of making me sad, Empty served as an eye-opener. It told me to be more appreciative and thankful for what I have, and sorry for even the little name-calling that I did back in high school. But even with Dell's hopelessness, her story fills one with anticipation for better things and strength to work towards those goals.Anyway, that ending was totally unexpected. I kept eyeing the page number, willing for there to be more, chanting "someone or something stop her" in my head. My wish ended up being unfulfilled, but that way, the story became just so much more real.MY FAVORITE PART was Dell's talent show performance. Let it all out, girl.