"I'm like a self-made hand grenade

But I can't pull the pin...

Can't you give a damn on a better day?

I can't come out to play

I'm in such a bad bad way"

Nina Gordon - Badway


This is the issue where, among other things,  I challenge what is normal..... is pain normal? Is suicide? Am I? What one person defines one way, another defines in a completely new direction. I am not pretty and my life complements that well. I am blacks and greys, purples and blues.

I remember in grade 8 art, I painted a picture for the abstract unit of the course. It showed a warped flower glowing amongst a background melange of angry blacks and reds and purples. I told my teacher that it represented the existence of life, pure and simple, brightening an otherwise dark, dreary world. I got perfect on the assignment.

I am still looking for my flower in my world.

Pull my pin and begin.