You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.

There's no way you can get the past right. You can pretend. You can delude yourself, but you can't re-create what's over.

Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified?

With a gun barrel between your teeth, you speak only in vowels.

If it comes down to a choice between being unloved and being vulnerable and sensitive and emotional, then you can just keep your love.

I am nothing, and not even that.

If I can't be beautiful, I want to be invisible.