I pushed my ragged mouth against the mirror. A thousand crushed bleeding lips pushed back at me.

I am the space between my thighs, daylight shining through.

I just want to sleep. A coma would be nice. Or amnesia. Anything, just to get rid of this, these thoughts, whispers in my mind. Did he rape my head, too?

Sometimes being an adult means doing the right thing, even if it's not what you want.

Do I want to die from the inside out or the outside in?

Write about the emotions you fear the most.

Art without emotion its like chocolate cake without sugar. It makes you gag.