It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for; I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill.
I only sleep with people I love, which is why I have insomnia.
I still own my heart, which I know because it hurts so much.
Perfume was first created to mask the stench of foul and offensive odors...
Spices and and bold flavorings were created to mask the taste of putrid and rotting meat...
What then was music created for?
Was it to drown out the voices of others, or the voices within ourselves?
I think I know.
And falling's just another way to fly.
I'm not stupid. I know exactly what's going on, and I'm not fighting it. If I have to go through this, I will glean from it any small benefit I can receive. I will not fight this. Bring it on. Bring on the cure. Bring on the fucking happy. I'm committed.
Awareness is the enemy of sanity, for once you hear the screaming, it never stops.