Words That Bleed

Sometimes I think that the devil found inspiration in us

Death would be so lucky to have me, and I so lucky to have death. The whims of such are unpredictable and I have that in common. My presence is eternal and death would make that so. For that, I love the thing that will soothe me.

Truth is not in the story, but in how the story is told

I want to be understood so well that I can be explained

I am my own world, and the world is holding me back.

I think time was created as a sort of prison. Time is, after all, a social construct. One that haunts us day and night. Goes on too long and yet over too fast, without the idea of time, we are forever.

It’s very hard figuring out how to be yourself and not feel bad about it

I heard someone say that depression is just being sad and I have to say that that triggered me. Another someone has stated that they don’t even believe in depression or anxiety, something that is so dismissive of the many people who suffer from it. Really makes me mad when others disvalue what so many people go through

I’ve become so close to my anger that it lives and breathes with me, without her I wouldn’t want to live. I love her.

I think that having beautiful words is the most compelling argument to love someone. They are someone who tries everyday to put their love into words, and fails, because love cannot be put into words, but actions.

If you want to believe in magic, then believe. If you want to believe that secret doorways and portals to anywhere are real, then, my friend, believe. After all, nothing exists if you believe nothing exists.