but Are we scared of dying or of Being alone?

“look, i’m not saying this to sound cool, or edgy, or to put you off, but i guess i’ve just always been a bit of...” she trails off and looks down, then shrugs. “a loner. and not like a ‘lone wolf’ kind of thing, i just feel like i have a hard time connecting with people, or that maybe people have a hard time connecting with me.” esmeralda half-smiles and looks up into his eyes. “but i’m sure you don't have the slightest idea what that’s like, do you?”

i'd like to kiss you once just to see

pierre laughs softly--so softly it sounds more like a sigh, or as if he is beginning to cry. she looks at him from the corner of her eye. there is something in him she cannot exactly place, something strange, or sad. maybe it’s his eyes? his eyes are dark blue, darker and bluer than any ocean knows how to be, and while they aren’t necessarily sad, there is an unmistakable solemnity to them.

old. they’re old eyes.                                                                              .

the blond boy throws his head back laughing, and for a few seconds, i can’t breathe. sheer happiness radiates from his entire body as he laughs--he doesn’t just smile, or chuckle, or scoff, like the other boys do. this was a full-on belly-laugh, the kind that either says i am warm and my joy is rich or my life cannot contain this energy in my veins. i do not know him, but i feel his energy. i hear his laugh.

woooooo all the girls and boys goin crazy trying to make the boys and girls go crazy
we're all a LIttle crazy but not
generally crazy for another except in
the ways we have
deluded ourselves again and again
That is why we want
to drive another crazy because of the comfort
in a fellow insanity plunge
of scattered ingenuous kisses
i love you i love you i love ......................... the .. way you make me feel?
                              is this real?
life, love is self-circled
and fairy lights aren't half as romance as his hands
bloodied; hers trembling; was it the other way around?

collarboned and cheeky and it's ALL about the bones, right?  ***** ur reliability unless u have the eyes to back it up sweetie

trash talk is mainly between me and the mirror
recently
so here you go

it was a grey wednesday morning, and i was sitting at my desk, too tired to stand but too rattled to fall back asleep.
the wavering morning light slips through the blinds and thin stripes of sunshine run along the carpet. how strange, i remember thinking, that this is beautiful to me.
looking back, i know why it was beautiful. sunlight, even through blinds, is bright. and it’s warm.
then, i didn’t know warmth was a commodity, or that i should have been savoring the light; holding onto its rays; devouring its heat.

back then, i didn’t know a lot of things.