a be writing about about me for a change and not my anti. So I started off with this, a eh, meh or oh yeah?
"I wasn't such a saint as a child. Innocence was nothing but a sick joke adults fed off of. And I took so much advantage of it.
The lights were unrealistically bright, the sanitary paper on the hospital bed touched through my plastic gown.
With the tube shoved down my throat (the only thing keeping me alive) I was left alone in silence with my thoughts.
Visitors weren't allowed until after noon. My sadist nurse gave me lack luster food knowing I couldn't use either of my hands. I couldn't feel anything at all in fact"
That's all I got so far :/ writers block is a bigger bitch than karma.