“Despite what you’ve read, your sadness is not beautiful. No one will see you in the bookstore, curled up with your Bukowski, and want to save you.
for a salvation that will not come from the grey-eyed boy looking for an annotated copy of Shakespeare,
for an end to your sadness in Keats.
He coughed up his lungs at 25, and flowery words cannot conceal a life barely lived.
Your life is fragile, just beginning, teetering on the violent edge of the world.
Your sadness will bury you alive, and you are the only one who can shovel your way out with hardened hands and ragged fingernails, bleeding your despair into the unforgiving earth.
Darling, you see, no heroes are coming for you. Grab your sword, and don your own armor.”
I hope one day
somebody loves you
that they see violets
in the bags under your eyes,
sunsets in the downward arch
of your lips,
that they recognize you
as something green,
something fresh and still growing,
even if sometimes
you are growing sideways,
that they do not waste their time
trying to fix you.
“I want to text you. Just to remind you that I’m still here. But then I remember that you know I’m here. You just don’t care.”
Midnight thoughts (I won’t do this again)
“Forget the past, focus on the future.”
“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
Martin Luther King
Families that don’t play monopoly together, stay together
Maybe one day we’ll meet again when we’re different people.
Maybe then we’ll be better for each other.”