I took my morning walk, I took my evening walk, I ate something, I thought about something, I wrote, I napped and dreamt something too, and with all that something, I still have nothing because so much of sum’thing has always been and always will be you.
I miss you.
A hundred years from now when you are alone in your grave, no one will care how much money you had, what car you drove or what kind of house you lived in. The only thing that will matter then will be your righteous deeds.
That song you keep playing is nothing but a photograph you look at with your ears.
Hope is not a plan.
You are not just here to fill space or be a background character in someone else’s movie. Consider this: nothing would be the same if you did not exist. Every place you have ever been and everyone you have ever spoken to would be different without you. We are all connected, and we are all affected by the decisions and even the existence of those around us.
I need someone to shut off my brain, and turn on my heart.
Be proud of your pain, for you are stronger than those with none.
Things will be far worse than
You are perfect. I know it feels like punishment now but you of all people do not deserve to die and you don’t deserve to want to die. So hold on. I know there isn’t a lot of good out there, but if you go that will be one less good thing, one less glimpse into the beauty that only exists in the people we can still hold on to. So hold on to something real. You are stronger than the dark ink spilling from your guts and you are stronger than a million of me. Don’t give up just when things are glowing the tint of fresh hope. I thought out these words for you. There are thousands of you and I am here begging for life.
I’ve cried, and you’d think I’d be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.
I wish I could throw off the thoughts which poison my happiness. And yet I take a kind of pleasure in indulging them.
You can fall in love with words, you know. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve felt winds of words that lift bumps off my skin as I loan them my breath in exchange for nostalgia. They grow wings inside my heart and flutter down into my stomach.
There must be a limit to the mistakes one person can make, and when I get to the end of them, then i’ll be through with them. That’s a very comforting thought.
I’m not really worried what people think about me. Because I judge myself harsher, and on more strict terms, than they ever could probably.
You can die of a broken heart—it’s scientific fact—and my heart has been breaking since the very first day we met. I can feel it now, aching deep behind my rib cage the way it does every time we’re together, beating a desperate rhythm: Love me. Love me.
Tomorrow, you promise yourself, will be different, yet tomorrow is too often a repetition of today, and you disappoint yourself again and again
Some people fall in love. I had to crash into it.
If I love you more, will you suffer less?
The problem is that in the process of slowly forgetting you, I am fighting hard against it to still remember ever piece of you. As it is all I have. It’s the only thing I can keep.
I was looking at the big bright sky and there were so many stars and I just thought man, “it looks like they would take such good care of you.
2 a.m. Sitting alone at the coffee table, in the dark, writing and aching for you, while you are asleep in your own bed, far from here. Dreaming of someone else.
I represent to you all the sins you have never had the courage to commit.
War is not just about bombs and rockets. It’s about words.
I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So I’m not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong.