impressions deeply embedded force their apparitional aspects on an insomniac

i pace the halls looking for a peace that has eluded me for centuries

if i knew who you were, don't you think i would be able to recognize you?

but i don't even know myself, how can you expect me to know you when i see you?

i am scared of everything

i never know where i am going

courage is an act of will that pushes the darkness back

simply a refusal to participate in the pharmaceutical trade, just out of sheer stubbornness i suppose

i would rather be hurting, alone, walking the halls scared than a stepford barbie doll grinning at you

i get laid don't i? even me, the surly one. so what's the point of carving my hips or stuffing my boobs with plastic or my brain with your chemicals?

why would i want to be more pleasant for you who take me money, kill my lovers and maim my children?

i don't want to be pleasant

i want to be angry

i want to give you shit - a hard time - look at my cellulite, view the ravages of pain on my face, and see what the world has made of my innocence