In the beginning, I adored. What I adored was human. Not persons; not totalities, not defined and named beings. But signs. Flashes of being that glanced off me, kindling me. Lighting-like bursts that came to me. Look! I blazed up. And the sign withdrew. Vanished. While I burned on and consumed myself wholly.

“We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, 'I survived'.”

― Chris Cleave, The Other Hand

Hold me while ecstasy takes me high above the clouds while I shudder against you.

Posting this again cause no matter how many times I listen to it...it still makes me shed painful tears🖤🖤🖤🖤
Thankyou debbie, my love.

I am an overly emotional unemotional clingy but distant private person who likes to overshare at any moment and I'm still trying to figure out how that works.

Oh God, grant me the ability to write clearly because my voice is broken and fragmented, and grant my chest a peace that does not hurt anyone or hurt anyone's heart.

Do you ever just want to sit outside and talk with someone all night?

My OCD is killing me

Some people pop pills, I cut. We all have our vices.