I am Me. A tortured artist, an abused child, a suicide victim. I have been discriminated against, beaten, rejected. The love of my life took out a restraining order against me. Broken, beaten, and bruised, I took refuge in a small place on the Internet called E2. Here, my angst and dissatisfaction with the world around me can be expressed without harm. The slashes on my wrists talk to the computer without my knowing it to produce poetry, writing, images of pain and of my own horror. The emo coming from the speakers on my computer fuels my hand as I type my words of pain. The makeup on my face shields me from my own thoughts. I am me.
Well not really. Rock out.