God had a wicked sense of humour when he breathed life into my soul.
He gave me every gift a girl could dream of… And one curse.
Allow I may appear pretty, talented, and as many have told me in the past, exceptional smart, I am tragically flawed.
I am drawn to everything strange and unusual. Subjects of a dark, macabre nature intrigue me. In fact, my parents were told when I was 8 “perhaps your daughter should broaden her interest in books…” Almost immediately after I had finished reading the Thomas Harris “Hannibal Lecter” trilogy.
And it doesn’t stop there. Like many writers and performers before me, I also have a taste for the fast life, the high life. The problem with these indulgences is that they have almost killed me. And I’m still scared that I’ll die before my time is due as a result of my lifestyle choices.
The worst part about it all now is, I recognize what I’m doing. I understand I’m literally a moth to a flame… I just need to find a tiny candle to flicker around instead of a bonfire… But is one candle ever enough for someone who should be able to light up Westminster abbey? I don’t love myself enough to use my own light, so instead, I go both willingly and blindly to what I’m sure will one day be my demise, the flame.