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“I liked you, Lily. But you’re such a bitch, maybe you are better off dead.” Ironic, isn’t it? I believe the same thing. I’m better off dead, and here’s proof that not only I believe it.
I feel like I’m Hannah Baker, and Winter is my thirteenth reason why.
“Give me two weeks to show you that there is more to live for, more to be alive for. Give me two weeks to make you fall back in love with life.”
I didn’t plan my life further than October eighth of this year.
No one could love me back to life. I can’t even love myself back to life. I can’t expect anyone to save me when I can’t even save myself.
I thought I’d be the one showing her how beautiful life could be, when in reality, Lily is the one showing me what I’ll miss out on once she’s gone.
“You can have a death wish all you want, but if you’re going to hurt yourself, you’ll hurt me too.” “I can’t.” Tears swell in my eyes, slowly rolling down my cheeks. “The last thing you need is to hurt yourself even more, Lily. So, if you feel like needing to hurt something, hurt me,” he says. “No.” “You’ll hurt me either way, which, isn’t your fault, but still. Might as well use my body right from the start.”
I’ll love her until her last breath, and even after that, I’ll continue to love her with every breath I take.
“You see God around here somewhere?” I shake my head. “Exactly.” He kisses me. Deeply. Possessively. “You’re mine, Lily. I’m not even sharing you with God.”
Emotional pain is a silent killer; it comforts you, you just fail to realize that pain’s comfort is actually a weapon.