Things change, people change. Life goes on, not.

I can literally feel my heart breaking.
I can hear my blood pumping through my ears.
I can taste every tear that runs down my face.
I can hear each one hitting the ground beneath my feet.

Why does everything change
For Better?
For The Worst.
Why does everyone change
Leave,
and never come home.
When does the world stop spinning out of control
does it ever?

No, no it doesn't.

bear :)

Misery loves company, and company loves more

Love, we've lost it all
Tragedy, oh how it's taken so many
Hope, we've walked alone and forgot who we were
Misery, "the last, the worst, That man can feel"

We're all just a bunch of miserable bastards, so it usually works out

There is nothing more sad than forgetting how to breathe.

each time she looked him in the eyes
he become whole, everything he was,
everything he wanted to be, was hers
she was his happiness, his sanity
a place he called home.

"sing me the songs I've wrote for you
loud and out of key, baby don't stop
until you make my ears bleed."

summer never sounded so soft
their voices always cracked after
long nights on downtown rooftops
hanging their bare feet over the city

but all to quickly,
winter came and the summer was over
his winter became unbearably cold
his nights became longer, and longer
he didn't know it would go like this.

"now I've got no summer, I've got no one to kiss"

It would be impossible for him at first,
but as time moved on,
he would try to think less of her.
Until she could be forgotten, for awhile.

"now I've got no summer, I've got no one to kiss"

by the time warmth came back to the city
he had lost, hope for himself, for love
each morning he would meet the sun
with his heavy eyes, and hang himself on
that clothes line to dry the tears that filled his soul

-He was a genius of sadness,
immersing himself in it,
separating its numerous strands,
appreciating its subtle nuances.
he was a prism through which sadness could
be divided into its infinite spectrum.
but today he found something from a friend
that made him find himself once again

"It's comforting to know I'm not doing this alone.
the only thing worse then losing your way,
it's forgetting how to breathe"

You can not protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness

I spent my life learning to feel less.
Every day I felt less.
Is that growing old? Or is it something worse?
Does it break my heart, of course,
every moment of every day,
into more pieces than my heart was made of,
I never thought of myself as quiet,
much less silent,
I never thought about things at all,
everything changed,
the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn't the world,
it wasn't the bombs and burning buildings,
it was me,
my thinking,
the cancer of never letting go,
is ignorance bliss,
I don't know,
but it's so painful to think,
and tell me,
what did thinking ever do for me,
to what great place did thinking ever bring me?
I think and think and think,
I've thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.