“Sometimes anger is the hardened hurt we never healed from.”

Sometimes anger is a form of passion that isn’t being listened too.

If love was a sound, a mere whisper would suffice.

If possible could you just look in my eyes and find all the things I can’t seem to say.

I just need to let myself fall in love with myself.

I know what feeling I need to feel. I just can’t seem to find it.

Am I more afraid of failing or succeeding?

Anxiety clouds everything you know to be true.

There’s a kind of freedom in handing out torches and seeing who burns the bridge between you.

Memories can’t be remembered if they were never made. So I hope you make good ones.

I tried to write you as a novel but you were only meant to be a chapter.

I would tell you how I feel if such words existed in this world.

How hard it must be to love someone so broken.

Rest is a form of productivity they never wanted you to find.

If my broken pieces could make you whole, than at least my breaking would be worth it.

I will sit with my feelings and you can sit with yours. But lets sit together so not to feel alone.

In the darkness there are no shadows to fear.