“Fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking.” With each swear, the scissor blade hit my arms, but the pain never surfaced. I was already in too much pain for it to matter. “Fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking.” I cursed […][…]
I’m so sad and depressed I must be an artist, I thought to myself. I didn’t seem to be able to do anything else, and it seemed like the right field for someone who felt crazy. While […][…]
