Then I break a glass and I slit my very innermost thigh so that I can pretend that I'm menstru--- well, unavailable.

You're so easy to read but the book is boring me.

If you want to be safe, walk in the middle of the street.

Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?

I've been completely fascinated with history because it tells everything about what's going to happen next because it's cyclical, everything repeats in general.

And, what's more, this 'precious' body, the very same that is hooted and honked at, demeaned both in daily life as well as in ever existing form of media, harrassed, molested, raped, and, if all that wasn't enough, is forever poked and prodded and weighed and constantly wrong for eating too much, eating too little, a million details which all point to the solitary girl, to EVERY solitary girl, and say: Destroy yourself.

Once upon a time is now.