i killed a plant once because i gave it too much water. lord, i worry that love is violence.

Your flaws are perfect for the heart that is meant to love you.

You get better every time you do something difficult. Your standards of difficulty rises and you will gradually improve.

You can love a monster, it can even love you back, but that doesn’t change its nature.

if there is a light then i am going to swallow it. if there is a god then i’m going to make him cry.

     why is He like the wolf?

Always, over and over, these days and nights will come, the anxiety, the aversion, the doubt. And I will still live, and I will still love life.

And some days Writing is like Pulling out my bones Laying myself barer Than bare For everyone to see.

And then here it comes, the agony of existing in a world where I have loved you, you almost loved me, but it was gone just a little too soon.

I don’t want to love less, I won’t simmer myself down. I want to love loud enough to recreate the big bang, passionately enough to make the stars dance.

I’m thinking of ways to mend my heart, to be as kind to myself as I am to others, to be so gentle, so loving, to be apologetic like the way I’ve been to those before me who have been so reckless. I need to love my heart the way she’s never been loved and touch my skin the way she’s never been touched. I’m sick of feeling scathed from the inside out, watching pieces of me fall off and become one with the earth, I can watch as I drift behind until I’m nothing, but I want to be something. I am something, someone, I just need to find her.