At night when you're asleep, self-hatred's going to creep in. And you can blame it on the devil, the one who's bed you sleep in.

I know my mind is made of matter but I need to know exactly what is the matter at it's core? Because my heart is just a muscle and simply put, it's sore.

What makes you so lavish that you can afford to spend every sober moment feeling angry and bored?

When I was like sixteen, I was a total chick I had big hair. I was seen as this attractive girl, and I would get all this attention. And then I just cut off my hair, and I quit playing that game.

I just hope it was okay, I know it wasn't perfect, I hope in the end we can laugh and say it was all worth it.

Life is a sleazy stranger, who looks vaguely familiar; flirting with a bimbo named disaster at the end of the bar.

My main tactic is to focus on the people I respect. The people I think are great people. Do I have their respect? Do I have their support? If the answer is "yes," then I'm doing ok.