June 27, 2001: Attacked

I can’t stop depression from coming! The feeling’s sharp and capable of leaving me weak and almost dead. It’s an invisible hurting that Band-Aids can’t cure…or hide. The painting next door represents my pain—a crying snake who took a quick dip inside his own tears believing it would help erase the pain. No wait! I just changed the painting—he‘s got a wet head. Now I won’t be forced to answer weird ass questions.

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