People often tell me not to worry because I'm smart. I would trade all the intelligence in the world for some coping skills.
I look forward to the eventual deaths of my abusers. But most of all, I look forward to one death: my own.
They use you and abuse you. And then they throw you out like yesterday's trash.
The only thing keeping me alive at this point is my anger.
I've always been so obsessed with death, I didn't have time to live.
Chains of abuse never end.
They took away the one thing I love: alcohol.
The suicide trance is not for the faint of heart.
My love affair with death started when I was eleven.
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