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“Not this time, baby. Go on ahead without me. I’ll see you two later.”
believe in, well, love. In its purest form—in the most intimate and selfless light it’s meant to be in. And dying young, protecting the two people I cherish more than my aching soul can bear, is an act of love I would do over for eternity if I had to.
Ghosts are sadness and regret. Our hearts bleed as much as the living.
Why is my chest filled with so much torment and grief? Why am I still so fucking depressed?
Nothing was fair in life—why would it be different in death?
Heartless assholes aren’t born, you know. They’re trained into it. Their souls have been drained early and thoroughly by the wicked people before them. Hurt people tend to hurt people.
