My dad died on my 6th birthday, that of which traumatized the hell out of me, and left me as a volatile, short-fused, vicious, incensed little maniac; also, I was almost stone deaf at the time due to a volcanic fever I had at my infancy, which made my situation even worse...
When we moved to Podunk gravel-road Buford, I was a mess... Mostly, I was losing touch with the fabric of the reality around me; people appeared to have lost all facial features- eyes, noses, mouths, ears... It plunged me into a world of MANNEQUINS, which led onward into a state of being violently self-injurious and suicidal!
I look back on all that, and say to myself: "Wow... What a fucked up childhood..... My life then is completely different than that of my life now... What went wrong at the time for me to have such a shitty childhood?? On second thought, let's not probe too far..."







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Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep. ~Scott Adams
many thanks to fave my work
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If you find that me talking to myself is strange, then you'll get a pleasant surprise when the voices start talking back.
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~Roleplay4Geeks
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My CP shop
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~ It Is Not Enough To Succeed, Others Must Fail. ~
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we ain't got no place to go
so let's go to the punk rock show !!
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