"Good people end up in Hell because they can’t forgive themselves."

Does anyone ever get that feeling in your chest like when something sad happens like you can physically feel the pain and you feel your throat becoming thick and your words get caught and you cant really talk and you feel like crying but you cant and it just hurts

"When people are ready to, they change. They never do it before then, and sometimes they die before they get around to it. You can’t make them change if they don’t want to, just like when they do want to, you can’t stop them."

"Violence does not always take visible form, and not all wounds gush blood."

I’ve changed a lot, and I know I’ve changed. But the fact that you didn’t even realize I have goes to show just how little you’ve been paying attention. You never really knew me right from the start.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine.

People will hurt you. But you shouldn’t use that as an excuse to hurt someone back.

I missed you every hour. And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. I’d catch myself just walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I’d seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. And then I’d realize that you weren’t there anymore, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me.

my hobbies include having coffee and mental breakdowns

I allow you to hurt me.
Pretending that I don’t feel.
But you cut deep, I wince and you don’t see.
I stay because I am addicted to your
personal brand of hurt.
The kind of hurt that plays in the pit of your gut,
The kind of hurt that reminds you
that your hurting,
Every.Chance.It Gets..

I hope you miss me.
I hope you stand in the shower with the water as hot as it gets,
trying to wash the memory of me off your skin.
I hope you lay in bed at night and wish I was there.
I hope that when you are sitting alone that it over comes you all at once.
I hope you begin to hate my memory.
I hope that it grows into the inside of your lungs so that you can’t breathe without thinking of me.
I hope it hurts.
I hope when you are home,your peace is unsettled, because you felt more at home with me.I want you to sleep restlessly because you miss me.I want to haunt your thoughts.I want you to write me a hundred emails of which you will never send,
elling me how wrong you were.

I write to you,
and for you.
Edited and scripted,
and only halve truths.
If I wrote how I truly felt
the pages might catch fire.

"We’re all curious about what might hurt us."

I talk to you
in very much the same way 
I try to drink my coffee
before it turns cold

Brak komentarzy:

Prześlij komentarz