One day you'll realize it's not about the future, it's not about the present, it's about your whole goddamn life. It's not about the cuts. Not about the mental breakdown. Not about any breakdown at all. It's about confusion. It's about all the fuck ups, every fucking mistake, every thing that you-should-but-haven't-done. About your not-living at all. Not about that fucking no-one-cares eating disorder, which is not a disorder. It's about being alone in the darkest room of your mind. It's not that you want somebody behind your back to help, to protect, to save. Not really. It's about being in this room and feeling all right. It's about being on your own and being a complete version of yourself. It may be pathetic. It may look like you don't want to admit your loneliness. Your guilty of this loneliness. But you made a choice. You did it. And now you're alone in the darkest room of your flat. In your room. Because you're the darkest person in the whole universe. Yes. I admit that. I can admit that.