There are worse things than dying, like being in love for example.
Falling in love is like falling asleep at the wheel of a car with someone in the passenger seat--
Everything is okay until it’s not and you are both broken and bleeding and she’s crying and all you can think to say is **** my bad.
I should have known better than to operate a motor vehicle while under the influence of something as poisonous as love.
But the downsides are much clearer from the other side of a shattered windshield.
I can’t help but wonder if beneath all my blood the grass is greener than where I came from.
It isn’t.