My arm is a canvas.
I paint with a knife.
With any metal object.
Just painting the canvas with cuts.
I only regret it when I have to hide it.
No one asks anymore.
Guess I bore them with it all.
Self mutilation...
How gross that sounds.
How great it feels.
A relief like no other,
Trust me,
I wouldn't lie.
It's no worse than a tattoo.
It's just the same.
But I have the control.
I hold the paint brush,
As I paint the canvas.
So many lines.
Angles.
I learned how to use a compass before geometry.
Aren't you proud of me Foster?
You're disappointed?
But why?
It's not all that bad,
I promise.
Mommy,
It's not as bad as it looks.
Gabby,
I promise this is the last time.
Christina,
I am getting better.
Lies.
Sooooo many lies,
You don't even know.
I love painting my canvas.
Each line has its own story.
Its beauty in pain,
That all.
It's so much more fun to put on a smile,
If and only if I can paint when I get home,
When I'm all alone,
I'm just practicing art,
Math,
Trying to find my veins.
I'm just painting my canvas.
Don't tell me it's ugly,
It's my canvas.
Angles,
Shapes,
Lines,
Red,
Deep red,
Blood red.
Can't you see?
This is just art.
My arm is a canvas,
Let me show you my work.
