The name,
Misa Estheim, was stamped on my forehead. So don't call me anything else. I've wasted
18 years so far growing up. Severed arms applaud me on
March 14. I wear
bras and panties. Let's talk sex in
Maryland. I know what it feels like to fall flat on my face for someone. I haven't gotten to the point where it'll last. I
create my own stories for the people I judge. When I die, I hope it's in the fog. Change things around a bit. Paint the town ruby red. Turn homicide into suicide. Let fate decide who lives, and who dies.
The world is prettier with a little creativity.
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