Only love can save me and love has destroyed me.
I am the beast at the end of the rope.
No boy is worth crying over, and the one who is won't make you cry.
There is an objective reality in which my body and mind are one. But I am not here and never have been.
I am an emotional plagiarist, stealing other people's pain, subsuming it into my own until I can't remember whose it is any more.
She's talking about herself in the third person because the idea of being who she is, of acknowledging that she is herself, is more than her pride can take.