What follows is what happens each time I fall. I do not know if these things really happen but this is what I believe happens. As your eyes move across these words, some sacred engine is coming back to life and I am beginning to fall again. Sometimes, it feels like I’m floating

History is a series of difficult choices. The only reason there’s anything left of the human race, the only reason we’re still here is because men like me made those difficult choices

What about artists who aren’t nice people? They’re just nice people who cared too much for a person or a world that hurt them too much. So now they chase the world and people away.

Because you’ve made sadness a disease….Happiness without sadness is emptiness, nothingness. The world once taught us to say, ‘I’m sorry,’ when we still cried, as if what we were doing was something to be ashamed of. What you’ve done is worse.”“I want you to be happy. The world wants you to be happy.”“…Then why does it have to get so goddamn angry at me, when I’m not?

She was real to me. And while I can be logical about this, logic has never once mended a broken heart or fixed a sundered soul. She has poisoned the very core of me. A dream has killed me

And he loves her. He loves her like he can never grab enough of her between his fingers

Let someone love you just the way you are—as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.

This is why it hurts the way it hurts. You have too many words in your head. There are too many ways to describe the way you feel. You will never have the luxury of a dull ache.You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much

you weren't mine to begin with.

It's not the things you don't want that drag you under. It's the things you think you want.Those, are the killers.