I think too much. I think ahead. I think behind. I think sideways. I think it all. If it exists, I’ve fucking thought of it.
Winona Ryder (via everyday-islike-sunday)
Look at me… I will never pass for a perfect bride. Or a perfect daughter. Can it be, I’m not meant to play this part? Now I see, that if I were truly to be myself, I would break my family’s heart. Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me? Why is my reflection someone I don’t know? Somehow I cannot hide who I am, though I’ve tried. When will my reflection show who I am inside?