I'm bad. I'm a burden. I'm anything, but at the end of the day, even after they edit my mind and turn me into garbage, I am you. I mean, you're next. Treat the trashy well. I would consider myself untouchable, left to my own little dream world, but they freaked about that as well. "We're going down because she's having fun." Why would I want anything if I'm only going to be jealous, Breaking Benjamin? That's how I ended up "youthless" as Beck would say. I didn't want to be bad. It's kill or be killed. They were jealous of me, of my dollar. I should have been jealous, incited, motivated. Now I'm food. I'm something easy, something they can control.
Things happen for reasons.
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