Help others, and in turn, help yourself. The only way to keep anything is by giving it away.
I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re just so enthused with your life.
Having anxiety is bad enough, without physically wearing it in self-induced bloody tick marks and bruises on your skin. Not to mention, bloody nails and fingertips, or a bloody chin from picking at bloody lips.
Loving the person you are with is not enough of a reason to stay with them and make them miserable. Sometimes, your love cannot be measured by your presence, but rather, by your absence.
I hope you wish you had fought harder, or at least given me a reason to stay.
It’s all I have left of you now.
While you were sleeping, I finally understood why people put up with the things they do for the sake of love. I understood why everything that has anything to do with art begins and ends there.
“Remember me as a woman who didn’t give a fuck about trivial things, worked hard, and achieved things she never imagined she would.”
Life sucks and then you die.
You should not have to wear yourself out trying to achieve communication with someone. It should not be a chore. It should not be forced. You shouldn’t have to beg for it.