Whenever She Thought She Could

It Wasn't Awful To Be Dead. The Stillness Would Almost Be A Relief. She Wouldn't Want Pain, She Wouldn't Want To Be Wounded Or Mutilated. She Could Never Shoot Herself Or Jump Off A Building. But Being Dead Wasn't Unthinkable.

Beauty Was Deceptive. I Would Rather Wear My Pain, My Ugliness. I Was Torn And Stitched. I Was A Strip Mine, And They Would Just Have To Look. I Hoped I Made Them Sick. I Hoped They Saw Me In Their Dreams.

Let Me Tell You A Few Things About Regret. There Is No End To It. Do You Regret The Beginning Which Ended So Badly, Or Just The Ending Itself?

I Was Always Mortified.didn't They Know They Were Tying Thier Mothers To The Ground? Weren't Chains Ashamed Of Their Prisoners?

I've Been Depressed Many Times In My Life. But Under It All I'm An Optimist.