No matter what happens, you still get sleepy, and you still get hungry, and the sun still rises. Even if it mysteriously doesn't feel real.

This skin is a nuisance. This skin that separates you and me...it is a nuisance.

Paradise was made for tender hearts; hell, for loveless hearts.

I really hate pain.
I'd pull my own soul out if it meant I could stop the pain.

Even if you lie to me...that's okay.
I'll be satisfied with as much of yourself as you can give me.

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.