"are you always like this?" "i'm always like this."

bravery isnt the absence of fear, its jumping off the end of the earth knowing damned well that all youre gonna get in return is a long fall that leaves you with the rest of your damnable life to remember all the harm you almost caused, all of the doctors waiting with needles and thread poised to sew up the hearts and the lives they saw you set your sights on (if youre lucky, a stray comet will get you sooner rather than later). its fearing the fall and dreading death and taking the leap with a running start regardless. i think that braverys mostly foolishness, which ive got in abundance, and maybe a little selflessness, which i havent got at all. i think that the heroes that time will remember are the ones that acted too impulsively, who jumped without looking down, and managed to stumble into some great and noble deed completely by mistake. mistakes i have in abundance, too. i would say that my only brave act is having the guts to wake up every morning and continue spreading my own brand of disease across the planet. ill spare you the fodder of continuing with that particular train of thought. it hurt. it hurt that you did it, and it may be a fact that i lay down my truths for you like lovers, but i cant tell you how deeply that pain struck me. its not that i dont have the ability to verbalize it, because im pretty sure that i could tie both of us up with a slew of words that come out poetic on their own accord if i really wanted to lend you my opinions on the matter, but i won’t. i won’t because, despite how often i seem to flay myself like desperately begging forgiveness from God, there are some hurts id rather not inflict upon myself. there are some things im much more content with when theyre folded up neatly and shoved into the back of my mind, steadily collecting dust and contracting diseases thatll make their way to my bloodstream later, than when i have to feel them splintering my ribs just a little bit more with every breath i take. so it didn’t happen. it didn’t happen. dont you ever think that i dont trust you with my words. remember that – that you alone get to command them and twist them into whatever design you see fit – and remember that this exchange isn’t one-sided in the slightest. remember that i need to drink the ink off of every page that you give to me, or every malcontent thought and infected emotion simmering to the proper consistency inside of me would be the only thing i had to fill my stomach and wet my eyes and dampen my tongue for the talking. remember that i trust you more than i trust myself, because i constantly expend more energy coveting my own successes than i do realizing my failures as they fade to sickened yellow bruises, and i cant be trusted with anything.
i hate the feeling of forming new habits.

i wish i could hide in the dark more often,
as dreary as that sounds it’s comforting.

theres a loud voice inside my head and ill listen
because hey whos telling me not to?

i read palahniuk and levithan only because sometimes believing in all that beautiful crap makes you forget about the ugly stuff and gives you a little hope for the world

call me up sunshine i need to hear that smile