It snuck up on me, unaware, but as soon as

It snuck up on me, unaware, but as soon as its icy stream of abuse marched across the difficult-to-bend hairs on the back of my neck--down the 40 miles of bad road that is my spine

It dawned on me. Despite my best efforts, i was just like my father. I was two-faced, manipulative, selfish and alone. Funny how I didn't realize it till now. Like a knife

it cut through me, but I was sentenced to live. "Still water runs deep," my father once said in my defense, but ours was more like the water from Devil's Lake. I tried to

escape the nightmare but all I got was people telling me I was worth it and I shouldn't do it for them, but it's not about them it's about me and I don't want to spend the rest of

my life wearing this rainbow afro wig and big rubber nose. Why, oh why, did I ever think becoming a disco clown was a good idea? "Birthday party" this and "Quincinera" that. Geez,

I would killed myself if it wasn't for the cake. You see some people take drugs or jump from planes for a kick. Me , I eat cake without asking what is inside it. I'm reckless

so much so that I wouldn't even count the grams of glucose like those damn idiots at school. The cake was good, even if it gave funnily strange sensations in my stomach..

Then I remembered "The cake is always a lie." Which lie had I just eaten?

y tiramisu disintegrated beneath my fork. The tiramisu rotting was like Poe’s “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar.” I was grossed out by rotting flesh—and tiramisu--and puked.