my name is emma christina and this is my site. emma isn't my real name but for me there can be no real names. there can be no real places. who am i protecting? why, the innocent, of course. i wish i was included in the innocent, but i'm not. don't worry, i'm not a criminal or anything like that. it's just that i have spent my whole life protecting everyone around me to keep them innocent of who i truly am. and i am very good at it. as long as i worry about them, then i don't have to worry about them worrying about me. is that confusing? i guess it is. i imagine you'll find me very confusing as you read about me. i don't know if you will read on, though. do you really want to hear another story like mine? you'll have to decide for yourself. you might wonder why you should even care about my story. i reckon you need to know more than my name, then.

let me introduce myself again. my name is emma christina and i turned 40 this year. to mark this momentous occasion, i didn't get a facelift, a piercing, or a tattoo. i didn't buy a sports car, a motorcycle, or a ring. i actually didn't mind being 40 because i never feel as old as the calendar tells me i am. not needing to recognize this year as a milestone, i didn't honor it in anyway. how boring, right? turns out, i'm not quite that boring. i did come away from this year with permanent souvenirs. i didn't really intend to collect them, they just sort of happened. you might ask what kind of souvenir would interest someone like me who could care less about 40? believe me, it wasn't about interest or a collection. as i said, i just kind of sort of ended up with them. oh hell, why am i lying to you? i don't have to protect you. what do i care if you know my whole life story? it won't reflect on you and i really don't care what you think of me. okay, that's a lie too. if i didn't care what you think, i wouldn't bother writing any of this down. let's make a deal, you and i. i promise to tell you only the truth from now on. what do you have to do? hmmm...nothing. i won't even ask you to finish reading this if you don't want to. sweet deal for you. honestly, it's cherry for me, too.

now, where was i? oh yes, my collection of souvenirs. i could try to sugar coat this or make you guess but i see no point. so here it is in black and white: i took a razor blade and cut two fingers, a forearm, a thigh, and a foot so many times that i lost count. don't get all sick to your stomach or anything. you can't even tell how many cuts i have because i went over the same places again and again and again and...well, you see where i'm going with that. but the cuts aren't the story. i mean, all they are is scars. nicely healed and sealed. don't get me wrong, they aren't invisible but they truly are not the story here.

my story will unfold in time but i'll tell you some of the basics now. i have struggled with depression for most of my life but have only recently been diagnosed with major depressive disorder. since my diagnosis, i have lost month after month after month to this "disease". and for me it is a disease. it may not be killing me like cancer would but i am certain it is taking a little more of my life each day. i need to do something drastic to reclaim my life and save myself.

the drastic means i am employing? sharing and taking a chance that someone else will care about what i have to say. so here i intend to be honest in a way that i cannot be in my own life. why should that matter to you? because maybe you are hurting or know someone that is. maybe you need to see someone who is hurting and is being real about it. and i do intend to be real. no masks, no hiding, no lies. brutal honesty from my bared soul. i am most raw and uncensored in my poetry so feel free to take a look there.

i'm glad you are here to listen to me and hope you'll come back. whether you do or don't, i'll be here. until next time...