The sadness cuts deep when you listen to lyrics of Nico's music.

Grandma I want to crawl into your bed and ask you so many questions.

Do you want to be buried with grandpa?

Do you regret not having an abortion?

Do you think there is one last thing for you to do?

I think depression is winning again.

I don't think I will want to hurt myself,

I don't believe a word I write.

I wish I learned to talk with a wardrobe lying over me,

with my hands tied down,

with my mouth duct taped,

with my eyes plucked out,

with my ass shitting blood,

with my penis crawling back inside me,

Dysforia is what i feel now.

I hate the body I taught myself to love.

It's so fucked up, no wonder I want to die every day.