Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids.
People love talking, and I have never been a huge talker. I carry on an inner monologue, but the words often don't reach my lips.
How do you keep safe when your whole day is as wide and empty as the sky?
The worst feeling: when you just have to wait and prepare yourself for the lie.
It’s humbling, to become the very thing you once mocked.
They always call depression the blues, but I would have been happy to waken to a periwinkle outlook. Depression to me is urine yellow, washed out, exhausted miles of weak piss.