Everytime I begin to doubt the truth, who I am, that purity exists in the world...I look in your eyes as you tell me you love me.

Your apology is insincere and uninteresting, as is the rest of you.

No. You're wrong. So just sit there in your wrongness and be wrong.

(Yes I'm aware that is a group on facebook. I am also aware that I fell out of my chair laughing after reading the title of and joining said group.)

"Razors pain you; Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful; Nooses give;
Gas smells awful; You might as well live. "
- Dorothy Parker

Just when I feel that my heart will stop beating, I feel the other half beating in your chest and I begin to live again.

No. I'm not okay.

I listen to my music to drown out the voices in my head.

Isolation
Desecration
Desperation
Restoration

I have a scary question: Is it me or my reflection?
Now here's a scarier one: Is there even a difference anymore?

You are the sunshine to my rain.