“well, I think it’s fatalistic to ignore the writing on the wall“
. . . I killed myself a thousand times each and every week but
– and this is big –
I came back every fucking time.
. . Now I won’t throw myself under every bus and stare at speeding ones
intently with longing, instead,
I’ll look at what I love.
. When I stop trying to make everyone and their strangers and shadows
happy, hurting myself for every thing,
is when I start living.