My scars show you I've been strong enough to endure the trauma of the world. My heart has no scars, my heart hangs in tatters only visible to those who see with more than their eyes. And my soul, well, my soul is comprised of pristine shatter, held together only because each individual piece is falling apart. They fall apart the right way though, that's why I still play this facade of being one and whole.

And in my novels I live many lives. Substitutes of spontaneity to replace a dreary reality. How I live for those inky black words and kaleidoscope colored experiences.

I wear my past around my shoulders as a fine, but worn, cloak. Don't be fooled by my cloak's appearance, I have a three piece underneath.