January 20, 2002
Mamma I stopped loving me too

I remember being a kid who couldn’t stop creating—I kept it hid from the rest of the world. I feared what they’d say. Today, nothing has changed… part of who I am, is based on this enormous need to be mysterious only to laugh it off when asked. Nobody knows me! Not even the self I think I am. People have accused me of being unique. I feel like a freak! I can’t see anything—except anger, depression and a need to constantly be creative. I’m just me.