The joke's on them. One little hypodermic wont' be enough. Split a piece of wood, and they'll find me. Lift up a stone, and they'll find me. Look in the mirror, and they'll find me...If you really want to know what makes someone a killer, ask yourself what would make you do it.
Lately, I have been having nightmares, where I'm cut into so many pieces that there isn't enough of me to be put back together.
But there’s a part of me that wonders what it would be like to be the most important person to someone else, to always feel like you were missing a piece of yourself when he wasn’t near you.
You can't exist in this world without leaving a piece of yourself behind.
Bleeding heart, he’d called her. Well. He should know. He’d been the first to rip it to pieces.
Imagine a world that seemed so much bigger than you. Imagine waking up one morning and finding a piece of yourself you didn't even know existed.
Your hand fits mine like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle