(via spiritmolecule)
Is this real life or hyperspace?
“Why?”
Please don’t act like there’s an answer. There isn’t.
You wanted them to suffer just like you did. You wanted to believe you deserved what happened. You painted scars on the hearts of others, illustrating your story.
I found myself at your house, in a dark room. You would sit there in front of your mirror, all alone, gazing into your shattered reflection. My bare feet would tread slowly on the broken glass, feeling every inch cut into me. But I saw the brightest light shining through the cracks of your cemented heart. I heard every word speak as many miles as were in your cold stare.
Now you can’t believe. You’ve become the warden to your own prison cell. Your loneliness is the only defense against the memories carved into your soul. You never want to leave solitary confinement. You don’t want them to see what they made you believe.
You tried to tell me you were trapped. You muffled your screams and choked on words that you wished existed, possessed by the demon of anguish. You always believed crying was weak. I did most of it for you.
I wish I could hold you and make you believe you are beautiful, that you don’t deserve what happened. I wish you felt my suffering for you. I wish you knew you were never alone.
I love you.
If there is a corner of consciousness, maybe I can find those words, doo doo doo doo doo, just to bring them here to your heart :-)
(Source: jiwungyun, via getyouryogaon)
Reconstruct.
4 am monday ramblings
Why do I peel my Self apart, piece by piece, offering my soul to be dissected by the universe? Morbid fascination to uncover what lays behind the curtain. Why does it feel more real than my waking life? Why do my nightly dreams only continue the journey? I feel the presence deep within my soul when we touch.
Why the suffering? What is the purpose of the intrinsic hostile nature of existence? Embrace compassion. Embrace love. Don’t turn away from what you desire.
I would much rather burst into flames then slowly burn away weakly. Leary looked so sad in his later years. I could use a hug from Huxley as well.
(Source: kandekreations, via kandichaos)
