Voices moving shadows itchy bumps and welts. My hands molest my body. My hands have beaten me. Words come out of my mouth that aren't my own. So many voices in my head I cannot have my own thoughts. I suffer because of evil
As anyone on this site who knows me can attest, I don't get out much.
Last night, however, was different.
A close relative had a part in an opera performed at the Kennedy Center.
En route to the event, there was an announcement on local radio news that...