//Press space to go to the next slide.//
--Here is a little story-- The windows are dark and I watch the stars begin to peek out from behind the clouds. I sip my tea, eyes unfocused, thinking about things. I wish people could see the world the way I do. The cold night air is refreshing, the starts are magic. Children who laugh and play are lucky. No one is ugly, not to me. They say I'm lying when I tell them that they are beautiful, but it's the truth, or at least what I see. My drawings are nonsensical, a beautiful, twisted mess of lies and society and what I feel and see. A horribly enthralling combination of Tim Burton and Doctor Sues. And me. Just me. Just strange little messy me. My poems are dark and filled with the horror of my life. Pain is my past, present and future. But I wear it well. The tears in my eyes shine like diamonds. The world calls me fat. I say I am bouncy. The world calls me insane. I say I am psyco. The world calls me reckless. I say I am an acquired taste. The world hates me. I love me. The only thing that hates me more than the world are my demons. They drag me down sometimes, but I can always get back up. I can always get my love back. Just because I am sad (you can see the overcast skies in my eyes and you can feel the universe weighing on my shoulders) doesn't mean that I don't love things. I'm getting better, I'm fighting. And I love this way of living, I love it.
