An experiment in autobiography, rehashed and relayed. I don’t often post things that were written at an earlier date, I just don’t feel the same way as when I wrote it. And this isn’t necessarily something that needs saying, but I’ve been having a hard time with the words lately. I was born a diamond, rough and ripped from a womb serrated by cancer, a miracle, a fighter, youngest fire in the zodiac, star gazer springtime april showered with affection.…
