Can’t promise I’ll stay. That would be lying. And I’m so, so tired of lies.

Maybe Life is random. No fate. No God. Just Time.

Love is more than blind. It’s brain-dead.

I need to capture my sprite with trembling hands. Except I could crush her. Wonder how many small things of beauty - flowers, seashells, dragonflies - have met such a demise. Wonder how much fragile love has collapsed beneath the weight of confession.

Your hurt swallows ine, like space swallows time, and the two intertwine. We tangle together.

You can turn your back but you can never really walk away.

revenge is living well with out you.