You are damaged and broken and unhinged. But so are shooting stars and comets.

The monsters were never under my bed. Because the monsters were inside my head. I fear no monsters, for no monsters I see. Because all this time the monster has been me.

That sadness that you do not speak of, that haunts you in the ache of midnight. Give it to me. I want to heal that.

She is alone. And oh how brilliantly she shines.

Don't let a king or a prince or a fairytale tell you you are smaller than that or who you are meant to be.