Who said dreaming is better than reality? What if they’re both equally as bad? I can’t tell the difference between reality and a dream anymore because they’re both turning out to be a nightmare.
All I want to do before I die Is to write something so beautiful, people leak emotions from their eyes and sigh with huffs of wind strong enough to be heard from London. I want to put life back into eyes of the broken. I want all of these rotten human beings to feel something other than the numbness and anger that consumes their soul