I have these knives in my chest that can't become words.

You are alone,So alone,You speak back to silence.People call it loneliness,You call it solitude,Different words,Meaning the same pain.

Depression is like waking up and opening the blinds because your plants need sunlight, but it's 8p.m. It's always 8p.m and you keep apologizing for it.

This empty shell holds nothing but the echoes of what was.

The most beautiful things often stand alone.

When I was sadI smiledSo everyone thought I was happyAnd smiled backEven if they were sadThey were happy that I was happyEven if we were sad.

I keep breaking things, as if to see what's going on inside of me.

Everything that drowned me taught me how to swim.