If you ask me the nicest word I would use is complicated, the other words are mess, screwed up and damaged, yes, sometimes I'm not nice, but that's what I think.

Sometimes I wonder if there's any kind of hope, and I want to say there really isn't (beacuse that would be so much more easier) and yet I know there is, there's that small, stupid, little piece of hope, not willing to go away.