Being an outsider makes you a really good writer.

I'm not an innovator.

When you're doing something you're not used to, you kind of realize that you're still a kid: even though the whole world around you sees you as an adult and you're expected to act like an adult, you still haven't actually grown up.

I always have strong urges to sabotage myself. Whenever someone says they like something about my music, I tend to not want to do that anymore. It's not even that I don't like it anymore: it's that I keep trying to find ways for people to dislike me.

I don't think I'm alone in this: I'm obsessed with trying to not only be happy but maintain happiness, but my definition of happiness is skewed more towards ecstasy rather than contentment.

Music was the one thing that was just mine, and no one could take it from me. I created it, dictated it, and it made me not able to let go of it.

If I ever found a place where I belonged, that in itself would be an identity crisis to me.

I think my whole identity is formed around not knowing where I'm from. It might even be that I find comfort in that confusion.

You can be heartbroken about a relationship but also, from it, realize you are you, and you're okay with who you are or where you came from.

I have a very conveniently photographic memory of emotions - it's overwhelming, because things don't fade for me.