The sickly foolish thoughts of someone aching to move away, knowing they don't have the ability

"I'm sorry for living, for breathing, for singing out loud. I'm sorry for laughing, and as if I'm not like you. And your frame isn't my style. This town is tightening me, curled up behind its doors. This world is tight. It's rotating very slowly."

"You watch the news, but do you see yourself there? Someone's teaching you again, but in fact you're talking to yourself. And as if you don't want to be saved."