I thought you were going to be my happily Ever After, I thought our love was Perfect. but you ended up being my Fallout. You took my Porcelain heart and Decided To Break It. Oh, how I wish I kept it All To Myself. Beside You, I felt Alive Again. I still remember playing Truth or Dare, and then you said: “Lover Dearest, I Cross My Heart, and promise you that I will always be Good To You.” Then, you wrapped your arms around me and all I could think was: “wow, there’s No Place Like Home.” But now, you don’t Say Anything, and I would give everything just to go back to September, when I was Beside You. —(DS)
Isaac Newton once said: matter can neither be created, nor destroyed. Every fiber of your being has a story to tell. You are an embodiment of something greater than all of us; you are made of history, and you will create the future. Our bodies are only temporary, mere placeholders of the greatness that we will go on to create. So when you tell yourself, “I don’t matter,” remember this: you are made of the very matter that created the universe. (DS)
There are not galaxies within me, there is a supernova, a stellar explosion that briefly outshines an entire galaxy, radiating as much energy as the Sun is expected to emit over its entire lifespan, before fading from view over several weeks or months. I’m a black hole, radiating darkness, and encasing everyone around into the nothingness that resides within me. I am not everlasting, my stay is meant to be short, and I can feel it coming to an end. —(DS)
There are still days where I’m scared of my own shadow; days where I go searching for you at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. There are still days where my voice quivers, and my hands shake, and all I think about is shredding my skin to pieces. Those days happen more often than not; but no matter what, I always make it to the next one. (DS)
❝I’m lonely. And I’m lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shít out of me to be this lonely because it seems catastrophic.
I’m not delicate and beautiful. I’m not your Sunday morning cup of tea. I’m not sunflowers and sunshine. I never have been. I’m your Friday night downpour, booming with thunder— with streaks of lightning exploding from my veins. I’m a tidal wave of thoughts and feelings that will end up drowning you. I’m that moment of calm that washes over you, when you realize that you’re not making it back up to ocean’s surface, and you stop fighting. I am destruction and chaos. I am the poison that has no antidote. Don’t get too close, because it will only result in disaster. (DS)