“I remain busy constantly on the move, For I just don’t like how I feel when I’m standing still.”

I’ve become almost professional, at pushing the feelings aside, away, afar. It’s not hard at all, in fact, It’s a chore to feel anything at all.

Seasons change, With my heart along For the ride.

I love the idea of those Who sing in the car; Dance while they eat; Laugh at their own mistakes. I envy these people So in love with just existing.

Your Smile, that smile you beam From cheek to cheek, Has such a way of leaving me weak.

Don’t force yourself into crevices that are much too small For your big, wild heart.

The moon screams, “You’re running out of time,” But perhaps tomorrow is only A new beginning.

Maybe our story didn’t end the way we planned but, Neither did the beginning. Regardless, our story will remain as one of my fondest memories.

I’ve grown tired of playing the warrior In the battle between me And my demons.

It breaks my heart in half watching your spirit fall. So when the light is fading, can I be the one you call?

I truly believe that we amount to what we contribute to the world, But lately, everyone seems more concerned with taking.

I’m a little bit different And I can’t always admit it, But honestly I’m okay With sticking out. I might do things backwards – Without getting the facts first, But I need you to love me without a doubt.

You plant flowers In the darkest parts Of me, and then you bathe me in your light. Thank you for Helping me grow.

Follow the path that forces your soul to glow and your heart to shine through your eyes.

I’ve been trying to put the pieces of my puzzle back together but my hands are far too shaky to put my life in order.

You can’t keep living backwards – Reminiscing on what was, And terrified to pursue What could be.

I’ve been scratching at the surface trying to escape the darkness that calls me from below.

I feel really privileged to be an actor, to be paid to do something I love.

For me writing biographies is impossible, unless they are brief and concise, and these are, I feel, the most eloquent.

I always felt like the rug could be pulled out from under me at anytime. And coming from a racially mixed background, I always felt like I didn’t really fit in anywhere.

My task, which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel–it is, before all, to make you see.

Silence has sometimes a remarkable power of showing itself as the disembodied soul of feeling wandering without its carcase, and it is then more impressive than speech.

Not every girl who wears makeup feels like, ‘Oh, I’m so ugly without it.’ I wear makeup because it’s fun to put on, and I feel pretty with it on.

You can’t pay enough money to cure that feeling of being broken and confused.

There will be sex after death, we just won’t be able to feel it.