“I am not my carvings”

I was fifteen at the time, and I was attending a boarding school in Arizona. My father was abusive, my mother was not willing to deal with my acting out any longer, and so I had been sent to Arizona in hopes that I would, “Come back a better child”. I had dealt with my … Read more

“I am not my lacerations”

I was sitting in the bike racks at Holmes Junior High waiting for some friends when my phone rang; the caller ID stated Kira (home), I was confused; incredibly confused my friend had only ever called me from her cell phone. My friend lived in Boston; she had to move there to live with her … Read more