Firethorn15

It’s not the death of people we don’t know that makes us sad. It’s the reaction of loved ones that tear us up inside. Tears make me want to cry in sympathy. At funerals, I can feel all the sorrow of the loved ones come crashing down on me, and I swear to all that is holy, I will be the only one sobbing my heart out in those rows. I like skulls. I think they look cool. The smooth white surfaces, the holes that use to hold important things. Skulls remind me that everything must come to end at some point, but there is beauty in death. And true beauty is such a rare thing to find in this world, don’t ya think? When I die

What is love? What does that word mean to you? Some people will tell you it is who you are biologically programed to love, like a mother or father, daughter or son, brother or sister. But I’ve seen it all too much that any kind of ‘biological’ love, can be a lie. We aren’t programmed to love anyone. If you choose to love your family, congratulations. You are one out of ten. And then there’s the whole fairy tale, ‘love at first sight’. This is no more than lust. You can lust after someone at first sight, we all have, but there is no way to truly love someone when you first see them. And yes, you can

Inside my chest there beats a heart. A slow painful thud inside a hollow chest. Sometimes there is a drip. The sound of blood leaking from the cracks and crevices. If you were to peer inside my chest, or remove my heart from my body, you'd see the combating colors. There is the reds. The colors vibrant and swirling and glowing as they so choose. The reds are alive with love and passion and life. But the darker colors are fighting to drown out the reds. The blacks of the night, of the darkness that threatens to swallow me whole. Because the things that I let inside my heart are killing the life and love. Suck the laughter from my throat, drow

I heard his laugh. It was a nice laugh, even if the reason he laughed was because he was being mischievous. Just thinking about it while it echoed in my head, it made me laugh. It was one of the better spots of light that left an imprint on me. Made me smile even when he wasn’t around. I wanted to cling to that light. But I let it slip through my fingers. I couldn’t even remember what it was like to feel happy because of his laugh. I can’t even remember what it sounded like anymore. I’ve forgotten that light, because it hurts to remember the light that left me. It was like the pain of the world came crashing down on

I never liked being alone. It sucks. I don’t like being alone in my head. I don’t like being alone in person. But no matter how much I don’t like being alone, I hate being around other people more. I hate people. I hate how I rely on people, about how inside of me there is just this black darkness that I have never been able to get to get rid of, never been able to change on my own. Other people scratch away at that darkness, or leave an imprint of light on it so I no longer feel that soul crushing emptiness that drains the life out of me, even if it is just a whisper of light. But no matter how much I love that whisper

I own 12 pillows. 4 I keep in my closet - a small throw pillow, two decorative pillows, one that's so deformed it’s sad to look at 1 ginormous pillow I lean against my wall when I sit up in bed or lean against my closet door that refuses to remained closed 4 pillows I switch out under my head whenever I feel like it because they’re all super annoying 1 I put in between the crook of my legs (I sleep on my side curled up mostly) 2 body pillows, one that’s longer and softer than the other so I like to hug it but I also like to have it pressed against my back when I’m hugging the other one I sleep in a full sized bed to