And if I end up with blood on my hands, well I know, that you'll understand, 'cause I fight like a girl.
I cut myself because you wouldn't let me cry. I cried because you wouldn't let me speak. I spoke because you wouldn't let me shine. I shone because I thought you loved me.
I do not have OCD OCD OCD.
History written in pencil is easily erased, but crayon is forever.
Awareness is the enemy of sanity, for once you hear the screaming, it never stops.
You're so easy to read but the book is boring me.