"You’re my sleeping pill, my caffeine. My virus, my vaccine. My Bible, my dirty magazine under my bed. I’m in trouble. We’re perfectly fitting pieces for different puzzles.
You try to run away, run away from the world. But then you run away, run away from yourself and you don’t know the way home. I believe in myself. I believe in the moments I can see with my eyes. I believe in this drink. But they call me a non-believer.
They break a perfectly fine leg and make you use a cane. They make you eat a poisonous apple when you’re hungry. They make you hold guns and knives instead of hands. Are you all clean?
They break a perfectly fine wing and make you crawl on the ground. They click tongues and point fingers. Does that mean you can throw stones at the sin-less? Isn’t throwing a stone a sin itself?
Oh God. He doesn’t love me. I know He doesn’t love me. Well, neither do I. Neither do I."