I once had a dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events some of those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken. But I didn't really mind, because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.

I'm not like a persona. I'm not a caricature of myself.

I believe in the person I want to become.

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I've got nothing but my aching soul?

I suppose my approach to religion is like my approach to music - I take what I want and leave the rest.

Walking through the city streets... Is it by mistake or design?

I've got a war in my mind