But then, my entire life is bullshit. The best things in it have vanished, ghosts. Ghosts I'll admit I created.

I nod, because I do understand. I'm just not sure how to go about divorcing myself from the evil I've already accepted.

Falling in love with someone is the surest highway to hurt that I know. When the door to love opens, the window to control closes.

...Things happened when you were little. Things you don't remember now, and don't want to. But they need to escape, need to worm their way out of that dark place in your brain where you keep them stashed.

Grown up? Me? I suppose I have. Killing things, and almost killing myself, must have changed me some, after all.

Your life doesn't belong to you, it belongs to the people that love you

Being In Love Means hard questions. Will I? Won't I? Should I? Could I? Yes? No? You? Me? There is no me without you. Is there a you without me? And if were truly one. how will I breathe when circomstance pries us apart? You are my oxygen. my substance, the blood inside my veins. When we touch, you are my skin. hold all my joy inside of you. When you go, I wither.