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"I think there is a Lost and Found box somewhere in here, but I haven't found it yet".
This is my sense of humor apparently
“We are all stars; we all fail and fall, no doubt. But from that failier should shine a new glow.”
―
―
“What is it like?"
"What is what like?"
"Death. What is death like?"
"He is quiet and still, and oh, so peaceful. Fear will no longer hold any sway over you, nor will worry or sadness. Can you think of a time when you were especially tired? Perhaps after a long day of travel? Do you remember how lovely it was to climb into your feather bed that night? How grateful your tired limbs were? How welcoming it felt? How delicious to close your eyes and finally rest?"
"Yes."
"It is just like that.”
― Mortal Heart
"What is what like?"
"Death. What is death like?"
"He is quiet and still, and oh, so peaceful. Fear will no longer hold any sway over you, nor will worry or sadness. Can you think of a time when you were especially tired? Perhaps after a long day of travel? Do you remember how lovely it was to climb into your feather bed that night? How grateful your tired limbs were? How welcoming it felt? How delicious to close your eyes and finally rest?"
"Yes."
"It is just like that.”
― Mortal Heart
“I am sorry. I did not see you. Normally you are lurking in the corners or skulking in the shadows, not standing in plain sight."
"I never skulk, and lurk only sometimes.”
― Mortal Heart
"I never skulk, and lurk only sometimes.”
― Mortal Heart
“For those of you who read the trigger warnings and said “Accidental cannibalism?! Count me in!” This one’s for you.”
― Butcher & Blackbird
― Butcher & Blackbird
“I do not remember very many things from the inside out. I do not remember what it felt like to touch things, or how bathwater traveled over my skin. I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.”
― Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia
― Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia
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