My scars show pain and suffering, but they also show my will to survive. They're part of my history that'll always be there.

The lack of human voices really gets to me. I never realized that we need to talk with other people just to know that we exist. That we matter. Loneliness is a howling, empty cavern inside of me that just keeps growing.

I was focused before - obsessed, really - with the appearance of perfection. But what did that ever bring me but pain? Pain and not seeing people for who they really are. If I ever get out of here, I'll look at people differently. I'll look for their true selves beneath the mask of their bodies. I'll look at soul.

If I don’t do what feels right to me, what I need and want to do, then am I really living?

I think you've got to get out whatever's hurting you through your art, so it doesn't twist you up inside.

And I'm still alive. That's what I have to focus on. Because I want to live. Even now I can't let myself give up. And that's something I didn't know about myself before - that I have such dogged determination and strength. That I can be completely focused on a goal and work long past what I thought my endurance was, when I have to.

My scars show pain and suffering, but they also show my will to survive. They're part of my history that'll always be there.