Where do the thoughts go, the ones we never write.

Loving her comes to me as naturally as writing, I never make an effort, she is a part of my identity.

I'm exhausted of getting applauded for writing, I want to be raw and I want to speak out my pain in the most simple of ways.

Keep writing.One day it will all make sense.

Writing doesn't hurt anymore for I've somehow convinced myself that you're never going to read everything I've written for you...

Books brought me places and writing kept me in place.

Someone is writing about you, and you are madly running behind someone who ignores you.

I tell myself I’m writing to someone, but most of the time I’m really just writing to that part in myself they have carved in me.

Writing doesn't heal. Sometimes it helps you bleed. And not many understand this.