I hate wrists. I have this horrible fear that anybody touching my wrists will burst my veins (even saying this is making me squirm). My wristaphobia brings endless joy to my tormenting husband.

Yes, it's I Love Stacie with blood gushing out. SICKENING. And yet oddly sweet. In his explanation of his cruel artwork he claimed, "My love for you runs deep through my veins".

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