HIATUS.

I am someone who did not die when I should have died.

I’m made up of black coffee, untamed hair, and poorly supressed anger.

He just wanted to protect those precious to him. That’s all he had ever wanted — to protect, to defend, to be both a shield and a sword, whichever was needed most. But how could he hope to protect them when he couldn’t even protect himself, from the monster inside his head? From all those little voices that whispered he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough or brave enough. In his flawed, fucked up and self-sacrificing way, he tried to do what he thought was right. For the first time in his life now, he questioned if, perhaps, his acts of selflessness were, in reality, completely selfish? Maybe the only reason anyone needed to be protected, was because he was trying to protect them. Maybe the entire world needed to be protected from his aptitude for failure; from him.

I liked that about her. She was unpredictable. Sometimes the things she said and did were surprising. Sometimes they disturbed me. But she was exciting, and that’s what I liked most. She was so many, many things but she was never once boring.

If I should die tomorrow