So, this is how it's become? This is how I've become? A walking contradiction? I'm surrounded by people and feel alone. I claim to crave a bit of normalcy but now that I have some, it's like I don't know what to do with it, I don't know how to be a n...
She said it was because one day I was going to have to go through a metamorphosis like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly and that scared me, so butterflies scared me.
We were all forged in the crucible.
But that's the thing with death. The whisper of it descent travels fast and wide, and people must've know I'd become a corpse because nobody even came to view the body.
Quitting’s not hard. Deciding to quit is hard. Once you make that mental leap, the rest is easy.” “Really? Was that how you quit me?” And just like that, without thinking, without saying it in my head first, without arguing with myself for da...
I'm not sure if the question's rhetorical or if she thinks I have a clue to her metaphysical mystery. And I'm in no state to answer either way because I'm crying. I don't realize it till I taste the sale against my lips. I can't remember the last tim...
Whoever said that the past isn't dead had it backward. It's the future that's already dead, already played out.
For my first recital ever, they gave me a cello. And for this one, they gave me you.
She looks at me, square in the eye. Taking aim. And then she pulls the trigger. “Because I hated you.” The wind, the noise, it all just goes quiet for a second, and I’m left with a dull ringing in my ear, like after a show, like after a heart m...
It's my turn to see you through,' she whispers, coming back to me and wrapping me in her blanket as I lose my shit all over again. She holds me until I recover my Y chromosome.
It's just one day, one twenty-four-hour period to get yourself through. - Adam
But still, I find the need to remind myself of the temporariness of a day, to reassure myself that I got through yesterday, I'll get through today.
A journey of a thousand miles starts with just ten digits.
A journey of 1,000 miles starts with just 10 digits.
Letting go. Everyone talks about it like it's the easiest thing. Unfurl your fingers one by one until your hand is open. But my hand has been clenched into a fist for three years now; it's frozen shut.
My chips are all cashed out. There's nothing to lose. Or maybe I've already lost it and found it, and whatever else there might be to lose...
How is it possible that a boyfriend ceases to exist from one day to another?
There are so many things that demand to be said. Where did you go? Do you ever think about me? You've ruined me. Are you okay? But of course, I can't say any of that.
