Stop thinking, just live.

“December December. The month I was born. My attitude seems to be reminiscent of it’s home-bearer. I become cold. I believe I was born cold also. As I type this my heart is neglectful of spring-time and singes my soul with frostbite. Cliche unintentionally but this remains true. Love barges in consistently with no warning transforming the sad ora to that of tropical bliss. Yet it must leave with no warning, where it takes its warmth with it, and leaves me to all I know. Disappointment, & cold.”

“i am made of various antitheses. i’m an organised mess, i am the thunderstorm and the rainbow that follows. i embody two extremes in one being. i am all and nothing. i feel too much but i also feel terribly empty. i wanted to die but i’d still hope for things to get better someday.”

“I feel like I’ve always been sort of an outsider. Everyone I know has someone else that they’re closer to than me, someone else that they confide in more. I’ve never really belonged to any kind of group. I’ve always been right on the outskirts, walking and observing everyone else get closer and closer together while I just have myself, my writing, and the vast amounts of air that fill the spaces in between.”

I wish I was happy or at least knew the reason for my sadness.

Maybe all we’ll ever be is just sad souls bleeding out our many shades of pain in the form of poetry

“Make sure at the end of the day, at the end of the relationship; you have yourself.”

“I can be someone’s and still be my own.”

Allow yourself a day without worry.