Somewhere deep down there's a decent man in me, he just can't be found.
My overall look on things is a lot more mature than it used to be.
Insecure about my body, about my personality, sometimes even about my understanding of everything.
I think if two people love each other, then what the hell? I think that everyone should have the chance to be equally miserable, if they want. It's the new tolerant me!
If I'm not passionate about it, I can't write it. I can't fake it.
I don't want to just die a normal death, I wanna be killed twice.