Wednesday, May. 05, 2004 | 5:50 p.m.
[Protectorate]
I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to rip it down, tear it into shreds like I did Her poem. I can't remember how much I've wanted to put my knife through it.
But each and every time, I managed not to. I put the knife through myself instead.
"Why?"
Because I'd regret it if I ruined the picture.
Ruining myself is justified. I don't have far to go.