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Hang on to your stories. Because in the end, they’re all we have.”
Where survival is concerned, tears have no place. Stay focused, and stay alive.
But there is no monster more terrifying than the
human being who lacks compassion.
“Safety is an illusion, remember?” “Yes, you’re right. But survival is reality.”
Falling in love means you have to be brave enough to accept the pain when it comes to stake its claim.
He is fire in a rainstorm. A sweet poison
that intoxicates me. A force of nature that defies everything I know—both
Isn’t that the way of love, though? It’s like a flame, a magnificent gift of nature that draws you into its warmth. The closer a person gets, the more they sacrifice themselves, until they’re burning in that unforgiving fire, wishing to become numb, as they turn to nothing more than ash on the wind.
Because I’m sick. And so is he. We’re the perfect, twisted match, destined for pain like a sad tragedy.
The moth who fell in love with the flame. He’s the reaper, and I’m his disciple.
When the world is at its darkest, somehow love still carries the light. Love is strength and weakness. A crutch and a sword. It can leave a person hollow and heal their wounds. It’s a friend to the stars, with pain as its shadow. A dichotomy whose time is uncertain. But above all things, love is necessary.
We don’t see the real world. We only see our world.
