Life is full of choices. We don't always make good ones.

And the thought of that makes me want to open a vein, experience pain, know I'm alive, despite this living death.

How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall?

Her smile is like summer moonlight-beautiful and magical, with a fire that could melt the night.

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.

I tattered their wings and tore off their legs, joint by joint, watched them crawl in circles, like little lost infants, untill they decide to die.

I know he wants to get serious. He's definitely not a player, not a poser, not a loser, not a user.