I was so self-critical. I still am; but it's not as bad anymore. - Fiona Apple

But then the dove of hope began its downward slope
And I believed for a moment that my chances
Were approaching to be grabbed
But as it came down near, so did a weary tear
I thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag.

My problem was that I felt ashamed of feeling sad or angry. Now, I don't hide my vulnerability in my lyrics. There's no way I was going to get raped and not get something out of it. I learned about power and hope and forgiveness. I like who I am now and I wouldn't be who I am if that hadn't happened.

Conversation once colored by esteem
Became dialogue as a diagram of a play for blood.
Took a vacation, my palate got clean.
Now I could taste your agenda
While you're spitting your cud.