When I was about 15, I was going through a difficult time. Sometimes it seemed as if I wasn't capable of handling all the problems that were piling up at the time. I felt alone and helpless. At one point, I stole a razor blade from my father's desk and seriously considered taking my own life. But then I decided against it. I've always kept that razor blade, wrapped in a piece of semi-transparent tissue paper, so small and inconspicuous, yet so effective and powerful. For me, it's a symbol that I've chosen life, that my life is a choice.
