Keep spitting your deceit. You talk like you have any idea what goes through my mind. Please baby doll, if you really know me please tell me 'cause for God's sake I haven't the slightest. But you don't know me, you don't fucking know me and that's the problem. Don't you see that? I'm not trying to recover from the drugs; they are just a symptom. You don't get it, you don't fucking get it. I could spell it out for you and still it wouldn't make sense to your stupid, worthless brain. Look deeper and find the little things hidden in my appearance. I'm made up of thousands of multicolored tiles and not a one you can grasp. There is so much more to this – there is a fucking subplot and you don't care to see it. You don't care. That's what it comes down to. You don't love me, you never will, you never did. It makes a lot more sense the way you spin it; it's a lot easier to grasp. It's normal after all. But who cares about normal? We're in Wonderland and everyone is mad here. I am no longer the crazy one, stop pointing your fingers and passing judgment. Quit tossing around the blame like you're some God who's allowed to write your signage and pin it to me. The words I've phrased to you don't begin to cover half of it; if only you could get lost in my labyrinth. Pull the maggots from the walls; each one carved with a memory (a fucking explanation for who I am). See, look at me. Look at me you fucking useless whore. Come on Judas; look me in the eyes. I'm no worse than you; if anything, you're worse than me. This is just one big theatrical production and like the quote reads, "the world is a stage," and you and I, baby girl, we're only players. Play or be played.