At twenty-six years old I woke up one day and said, “That’s it. I’m done. Today is the last day I’m going to live. That’s it!” That day I received a phone call form somebody I hadn’t talked to in years.
By the time I was nineteen, I was extremely bitter, angry, volatile … violent. I had become a kleptomaniac I was addicted to stealing everything around me. I was heavily on drugs and had really pushed everybody out of my life...
"He did cross the line, and I became a victim of what we now know as date rape. Thirty years ago that's really not what it was called. Since I did go into the bedroom with the guy, I blamed myself for many years..."
I would stab myself with a sewing needle. Or any kind of needle. Just to feel that pain. To know, you're still here. You're still human. You're still alive in some way. To make that pain, just show what I felt on the inside.