I promise I never meant to cry so hard. I never do, yet somehow it always seems to happen anyway.
I am forever healing my own wounds yet ripping them wide open again all at the same time. I’m pulling at my own stitches. Sometimes I want to bleed out. I want to release the poison still inside me. Yet it never all goes, no matter how much I bleed out. It remains in the deepest, darkest crevices of my veins. Almost as if it’s meant that I will always be plagued by the things that once played such a huge role in my life. I can never allow myself to bleed enough. I’ll sew up these wounds, only to rip them open again another time.
“Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.”
—Hunter S. Thompson
Not sure who I am anymore. Not sure if I ever really knew to begin with. Not sure if I’ll ever find out.
As you get older you will gain a bit more control over everything. Don’t let anyone, even your parents, break you. Find good people who care about you and surround yourself with just them. If you can’t find them at first, find good music and fall into it, let it hold you until they come.
—Davey Havok (via provokingnaught)” —(via mysticmementos)
I lit a candle for every lover that I’ve ever lost. And as the wicks slowly burned down, so did I. The smoke entered into my eyes, though I can’t deny that that’s not the the only reason I cried. If only all the memories could melt away as easily as the wax that sat in front of me. And as they burnt out, I struck a match for one last flicker of light. And as that went out, so did I. The light was gone, and so was I.
you jumped into the ocean
and i followed
but while you rose to the surface
i sunk to the bottom.