This in all is everything I need to keep me calm, keep me satisfied. My only way of communication. My very thoughts and ideas, the only way they escape. Down through my veins, and out through the tips of my fingers. The short, narrow limbs sticking out from each arm, attached to a torso that keeps my guts and blood in tact. Sometimes I wished they were longer though, y'know, my fingers. Maybe more would pour our, maybe someone could actually hear me. If my words could be heard through longer fingers, would I need a mouth? Could I be just another side show, drawing attention to my differences. Well, it would be better then this, this hole in my face, which is so unfullfilling in it's purpose. So desperate to communicate, I'll get the surgery done.
-May 4th, 2007.