Forests may be gorgeous but there is nothing more alive than a tree that learns how to grow in a cemetery.

I have never met a heavy heart that wasn’t a phone booth with a red cape inside Some people will never understand the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside Some days I know my smile looks like the gutter of a falling house But my hands are always holding tight to the ripchord of believing

If you’re handing out flashlights in the dark, start handing out stars.

If a tree fell in the forest, and you were the only one there to hear it; if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound, would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist, or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?

My heart is still a leather jacket I am waiting to give to someone sweet.

But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back. There is no bruise like the bruise loneliness kicks into your spine.

Everyone’s chest is a living room wall with awkwardly placed photographs hiding fist-shaped holes.