if only my heart were as cold as i pretend it is. maybe then i could get over this.

He is half of my soul, as the poets say.

You're going to die in your best friend's arms.

some people are just born with tragedy in their blood.

I can be fully consumed by what loves me.

hey guys great news! i'm at my fucking breaking point

here is my hand. here is my hand that will not harm you.

I do not like. This.

could be us

i am realizing too many things at once. this body is cold and alone. this body doesn't want to be here. i don't want to be here. this body was left behind. this body does what it wants without my permission.

'was that her saying she loved me?' 'of course. people say it when they say, 'take an umbrella, it's raining,' or 'hurry back,' or even 'watch out, you'll break your neck. ' there are hundreds of ways of wording it—you just have to listen for it, my dear.'

he doesn’t need some grand exit one day, adventures and tales of triumph never suited his tastes. he would be perfectly happy with a quiet life ending in a peaceful passing wherever he ends up calling home — assuming he can make it that far.

someday soon, we all will be together; if the fates allow

I guess my point is, you make me want to fall in love and get stuck.

Where is he

could be read as platonic but there is no heterosexual explanation for these two