“Oh! why was I born with a different face? why was I not born like the rest of my race? when I look,each one starts! when I speak, I offend; then Im silent & passive & lose every friend. Then my verse I dishonour, my pictures despise, my person degrade & my temper chastise; and the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame; all my talents I bury, and dead is my fame. Im either too low or too highly prized; when elate I m envy'd, when meek Im despis'd”

“losing my sight, losing my mind, i wish somebody would tell me im fine. I never realized i was spread too thin untill it was too late and i was empty within. Hungry, feeding on chaos and living on sin.”

“I don’t glorify the dead. If I didn’t care if they were still alive, why do I even bother when they are dead. If I love a person when they are still alive, they will remain in my mind and in my heart when they die.”

“When I start questioning my beauty and my self-construction, when I start questioning the world and my position and participation in it, when I start questioning my abilities and my dreams, when I start to question my potential and my future I try to focus on when my life was innocent and I try to stay there in that light at least for a little while.”

“Me, when I'm utterly exhausted by it all, when my skin breaks out, on those lonely evenings when I call my friends again and again and nobody's home, then I despise my own life - my birth, my upbringing, everything.”

“Im waiting, for what, my kind of people, what kind is that, i can tell my kind of people by their faces, by something in their faces.”