It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for; I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill.
Oh, and I certainly don't suffer from schizophrenia. I quite enjoy it. And so do I.
Why can I never go back to bed? Who's is the voice ringing in my head? Where is the sense in these desperate dreams? Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?
Simply put, if you are a Wayward Victorian Girl, I'll find you.
There is no such thing as justice, all the best that we can hope for is revenge.
I was reading everything under the sun from music history to feminist literature to Shakespeare, which is why I'm not a complete idiot at this time.