Mommy always did asked if I was ok I would lie and say yes and we'd go on with our day and my brother always thought something was wrong but he knew not to ask, he knew I wasn't that strong to tell them how I felt and how I hated my life to let let them know about all those things I did and still do with that knife and daddy would always scream and hurt me because I'm not any good and I try to think of ways to make him love me so I figured if I wrote him this note maybe he would. To tell him how I felt and how I hated my life and what I always do with that knife and how I hided my emotions deep down inside even though they tear me apart and how when I use my knife my blood and body become art and now I must create my master piece and die.
