Do you ever feel like a plastic bag, drifting throught the wind, wanting to start again. Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin, like a house of cards, one blow from caving in.

I'm not defined by where I came from.

Throw your stick and stones, throw your bombs and your blows, but you're not gonna break my soul.

I'm competitive with myself, and that goes hand in hand with how I present myself. I'm not only trying to put one foot in front of the other, I'm trying to put my best foot forward.

Recycle those nerves and make them adreneline.

I'm okay with having horrible lower teeth.

I really like to look like a history book. I can look 1940s, I can look 1970s hippie-chic, or sometimes I'll pull that '80s Brooklyn hip-hop kid with the door-knocker earrings.