Music, I think, he makes me feel like music

It's like a razor blade edging its way through my organs, shredding me, all I can think is: It will kill me, it will kill me, it will kill me. And I don't care.

The salt blowing off the sea makes the air feel textured and heavy.

I'd rather die my way than live yours.

It's amazing how words can do that, just shred your insides apart. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me - such bullshit.

And in that moment, the wordless thing passed between us, the thing that wasn't quite love but was so close I could believe in it sometimes.

And I guess that's when it starts to hit me: the whole point is, you do what you can.