I wondered why humans were even given the gift of speech at all. We no longer needed it; we’ve forgotten to talk about anything. We only waste it.
He mentioned the connection between us. He identified with me. These are the things that many people want to hear, that most “normal” people want to be able to truthfully say, but almost no one can.
I know that mirrors give us a false sense of confidence.” I continued. “The reflection that we see everyday has nothing to do with how others see us. The glass lies.
When I walked into the room, I looked down to the floor and saw that each and every garment I owned had been pulled from its rightful place and had been meticulously sliced into countless pieces. One thing was painfully obvious to me: these clothes w...
Who’s happy? Happy is just what people think they are when they can’t find anything to bitch about.
Maybe I should find another doctor; one who realizes the importance of scars.
Lucius didn’t believe in werewolves. He said that people were too horrible for any other monsters to exist, which he thought was a shame.
There are no mirrors of any kind in here. If there were, I’d want to smash them, but I wouldn’t. Instead, I’d probably just stare at them, giving myself negative affirmations.
Whatever it is that you know, or that you don’t know, tell me about it. We can exchange tirades. The comma is my favorite piece of punctuation and I’ve got all night.
The counselor says that with more time and more surgeries, I will begin to feel normal again. She says this with a mouth that can still smile. It’s so easy to be reassuring when you have lips.
I envy you, your youth. Every woman is still a dream, a thing that can’t exist. Even when you touch her, a creature too beautiful to be real or to cause real pain. It’s different for old men. We have more old wounds from these dreams.
We laughed the way that only people who carry each other back from Hell can laugh when they finally get a hunger for the future once again.
Hate isn’t the opposite of love, apathy is. Hating doesn’t free you from feeling anything. You have to carry it around, using every scar, every little memory like a building block. Like a stone in a wall, until you’ve created a new person, a ne...
Not every daughter mourns the loss of a mother.
A city isn’t so unlike a person. They both have the marks to show they have many stories to tell. They see many faces. They tear things down and make new again.
