"I remember the days I blindly wished for wings, desperately longing for the power of flight. On the really tough days, I'd have the audacity to pray for a harder, rougher shape to replace the soft, fragile form that is constantly crushed by the pain. But miracles and blessings glide above my head, walking the Earth is my destiny. Though traveling underneath it is when the curse creeps in and the pain flattens my spirit. Going to school became torture, envisioning him dying beneath that train over, and over, and over, every fucking day just to arrive at those hell gates school became. Salt was their insensitivity, their target? My very visible, open wounds. Finding myself on the edge of a dark abyss, hell's staff pushed me in. So one form of torture, followed by another, became way too much to bear. Wishes denied, most days, I lay grounded to the bed. Running from myself was easier in that lonesome abyss. The dark shielded me from the pain my older brother left me."