Rules for punching walls:
one- every time you leave a knuckle imprint on the wall of where he once held your hand, it is just god saying you’ll succumb to giving him another chance.
two- every crack surrounding the holes is just a reminder that the little things add up and eventually become a religion that is also made only of broken promises.
three- the place where bruises covered your hands were supposed to be reserved for a ring when you got married but instead it got the clotted blood of jesus that he never shed.
four- the ligaments under your skin are only torn pieces of what was supposed to be a holy congregation but a rapture happened and now your mind is in sacred places.
five- don’t worry when people look at you like you’ve gone completely insane because that just means they’re finally living in your fantasy. there is no heaven or hell.
six- when your x-rays come in and you realize your entire hand is broken, give me all of the reasons why you ever loved him. was it all really worth it in the end?

i think i'm going to go buy a lighter and something to smoke
and i'm going to put eyeliner on
grab my headphones and take a walk in the woods

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.