A couple of months ago, I was in a small town in central New York City when a group of men started a fire.
I had been working on a story about a woman who’s been stranded on an island and needs help finding a way to survive.
The story would have ended in a nice happy ending.
It ended in one of the most unpleasant situations I have ever had to deal with.
I was about to leave for work and was walking past a restaurant that has been open for almost two years, serving up delicious food.
As I was walking by the table, a young man suddenly jumped out of the window, grabbed a bottle of gas, and set the gas on fire.
He was yelling, “You’ll get out of here!”
And as soon as he had the bottle, he went to the window and started to pour gas over me.
I turned around, saw him, and thought, This is the guy.
He’s a thief, I thought.
I tried to run.
And I fell to the ground.
As soon as I landed, I realized what had happened.
I’d fallen through a hole in the ground and I was bleeding, so I grabbed the fire extinguisher and tried to get out.
I remember looking at the flames, thinking, Oh, I’m lucky.
Then I heard him say, “Don’t worry, you’ll get through it.”
And I was fine.
But then he pulled a knife and tried, as he’s doing now, to cut me.
When he got to me, I saw a knife.
And then I realized that he had his foot on my neck.
So I screamed and I tried, but I couldn’t get away.
He tried to stab me again, but he missed.
So then he cut me again.
And he stabbed me again and again, and he stabbed and stabbed me.
And when he was done with me, he pulled the knife out and stabbed himself.
And the last time I heard his voice was when he pulled his knife out, and I said, “Get the hell out.”
And he said, Get the hell away.
And as I was leaving, he said to me: “Donít worry.
You will be fine.”
Thatís what happened.
And so, I started crying.
I thought, What a horrible thing to have happened to me.
What an awful thing to leave a woman like me on an isolated island without food, water, and shelter.
So, I stopped crying, and then I went back to work.
I took the story out and I finished it, but the story didn’t really make it.
And, a few months later, I met a man who told me how he escaped from a mental institution when he turned 17.
He said that he was at the end of his rope, that he needed help, and that he wasn’t going to die on the island.
He went on to describe how he got the knife and the knife he used, how he had to use the knife, and how the knife cut through the walls of his cell and out the door.
And it was true.
The first time I ever saw a man die in a mental facility was when I was 17.
And my first thoughts were that that man, and all those other men like him, had been killed.
They had been executed.
And that’s when I started to think about what happened to the people who had survived the zombie apocalypse, and the people like them.
I knew I needed to know more about the people whose stories were left out of these stories.
And since I was so busy with the zombie Apocalypse, I had a couple of questions about the topic that I wanted to ask myself.
I wanted a lot of answers about how I ended up in the hospital, what happened, what I learned.
And a few weeks ago, a friend of mine, a retired teacher, and a guy I know from college sent me a bunch of questions.
And these were questions about his own experience in a psychiatric hospital.
What did you think?
What are some of your questions?
What is your favorite answer?
And these are all the questions that I asked my friend.
He asked me, “What is the biggest mistake you made in your mental health history?”
And I thought that it was a really good question.
I felt like it was an important question because there was no question, in my mind, about what he meant by the word “mistake.”
I had no idea what that meant.
He didn’t, and neither did I. I just knew that it wasn’t something that was done for me.
It was something that he did because he had done it before.
So it made sense to me that he might be talking about the way that he survived and survived as a man.
I did find some of the things that he said interesting.
For example, he told me that one time he was in an old mental