he is a weapon, a killer. do not forget it. you can use a spear as a walking stick， but that will not change its nature.

just like your dad， you'll never change.

so if you love me， let me go.

i like you， but i also hate you so much it makes me feel sick.

god is dead. you aren’t. keep running.

you will always fall in love， and it will always be like having your throat cut， just that fast.

everything i ever let go of has claw marks on it; yet i have not even a scratch on me.

got paper cuts from the love letters you never gave him.

if i conquered all my demons there wouldn't be much left of me.

i am not even a religious person. i am hardly a person at all， except when i look at you and think that this life with you must go on forever because it is so perfect， with all its imperfections.

how long ago did i die? where was i buried?

i've never been so happy and so sad to see someone.

terrified again of not loving / of loving and not you / of being loved and not by you.

looking half a corpse and half a god.

if you keep swallowing the anger back， it's going to choke you.

something touched me， lightly， like a knife—blade. i felt i was bleeding， though just a little， a hint. inside i flared hot， then cold. i thought of you. whom i love， madly.

please don’t deny yourself that out of fear of losing someone again， or guilt because you’re living on and i can’t.

i watch him in the kitchen， and i think of how much it hurts to love somebody. how deep the hurt is， how almost unbearable. it's not the love that hurts; it's the possibility of anything happening to the object of your love.

my kind of rebirth tasted like blood.

these are sunflowers. they're called that because they always face towards the sun. that's how i want to be like... someone who always sees the bright side of things.