Liberated. Free. But why do my eyes still bleed liquid diamonds? Pouring out of the ducts and down my cheeks, searing and scarring the tender flesh. Imagine this: Me, sitting in front of you, knees to my chin, covered in blood. You’d laugh, wouldn’t you? You’d throw your head back and cackle at my pitiful state, spitting and spewing out salt,
(
Read more... )