It's more about, when I found someone that made me feel really happy, that was so different to the way I'd felt before in my life.

I've clearer idea of how I don't want to be seen - as someone who does what everyone wants them to.

I mainly let my imagination be my reality. Fantasy is my reality.

Dark and lonely. I need somebody to hold me

Life is a velvet crowbar hitting you over the head, youre bleeding syrup amour, bleeding to death.

As soon as the first person wrote about me, the articles became just blatant, all-out lies. I consider it slander. If I cared more, I'd kill them.

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?