Bang

The heart is a weapon—a self-inflicting weapon—that if not trained properly, can destroy a person.

But maybe people like me aren't supposed to be saved. Maybe I'm just destined to bear the weight of the demons that lurk among the good.

And that's the moment when you realize that hopes and dreams are as fucked up as fairytales.

They say when you take revenge against another you lose your innocence.

I’ve never come across anyone like him. His intensity is entirely consuming, and when I’m not with him, all I can think about are ways I can sneak around to get to him. It’s like he’s the oxygen I need to survive, and when he’s gone I’m suffocating. I don’t know if love is supposed to feel this way, but it’s all I know, and it’s all with him.

Whether or not you’re in politics, everything is political. We all save face for others to perceive us in the best light. Nothing is real until you break down the walls and reveal the ugliness.

How you feel is how you allow yourself to feel.

Because life is not a fairytale, but we all need that one person who keeps the dream alive. You are that person for me.

That's the moment I realized hopes and dreams are as fucked up as fairytales

Weakness derives from the soul. Most everyone has one, which gives a woman like me leverage. Leverage to play people to my liking, and so I do.

There’s something about a beautiful, nearly flawless flower, emerging from muddled water.

His eyes are sharp as he says this, the intensity prevalent,

Soon the happiness will be enough to weaken the control the past has on you, and it won’t hurt as badly as it does right now.” “But

not to lose it. My thoughts rake at my heart, pricking tears that begin to puddle in my eyes.