“There is strength in breaking and becoming.”

How unfortunate that we tend to miss the ones who leave but neglect the ones who stay.

She just wants to understand what it feels like to be herself again.

Fear lives in the mind of doubt. Courage lives in the minds of those who dream.

Find beauty in my scars. For I’m a walking gallery of several masterpieces.

They silenced her tongue, for they feared how sharp it might cut them.

I am suffocated by the arms, I once called home.

In my quiet is when the voices in my head get the loudest.

Within me lies an abundance of love that your ego was too blind to see.

Perfection is what I craved, from a far from perfect world.

All burdens are gifted heavy, but through you runs a abundance of strength strong enough to carry it.

My skin will continue to carry your memories, even if my mind wants to forget.

I refuse to be strong for them, for I’m allowing myself to embrace my weak.

Beauty now lies behind some of the deepest of scars where pain once called home.

There is magic in shattering, for the most beautiful masterpieces are made from broken glass.

They ask me what it is to be a woman, as if I have to explain what it is to be a human.

I’ve seen far too many people lose their chance, waiting for others to catch up.

For you know only a heap of broken images

Love lifts us high, higher than we ever dreamed. And the higher you go, the higher the fall when it’s over.

Half of me is missing and what’s left is missing you.

One day I will cease to exist. But all my life I will love you.

Day after day, the echoes of losing you resonate in my bones.

It hurts that I was just one page in the book of your life. But what hurts more is knowing you’ll revise that chapter someday, and you’ll erase me completely.

But if we could have been together, what would there be to dream of?

Stranger than fiction is the fiction that you are a stranger to me.