Sparks Rise

I do not know what, in the end, makes a person who they are. If we`re all born one way, or if we only arrive there after as series of chioces. The bible claims that the wicked act on their own desires and impulses, because God is good, only good, and He would never compel a soul to wickedness. That I`m supposed to count on justice in the next life, even if I can`t have it in this one.

He has gone to a place I cannot find him. I cannot sing him home.

Sometimes we have to bend," she says, "to survive.

When you have nothing for so long, you forget the terror of having something to lose.

Anything can break if you hit it hard enough. Aren't we all proof of that?

It took me a while to understand that when you don’t like someone, nothing they can say or do will ever seem right. Something as harmless as giving a kid a cookie becomes something aggressive, a challenge to their authority.

Maybe that's the whole point-life showing me how good it could be, letting me have it just long enough to want it more than I've ever wanted anything else, only to rip it away. When you have nothing for so long, you forget the terror of having something to lose.

I glide under a sky so blue, so purple, so golden I fight as hard as anything to keep my eyes open, because I want to remember it forever, however long that lasts. Because I know it'll be the last thing I see.

I know I shouldn't look, but I can't help it, I have to see if it's like before. Even with his mask on, I saw the soul beneath the stone.

How can you miss something, feel so awful about it, when you're not sure you had it in the first place?

I want to feel every ounce of pain and happiness life can serve up, because it'll mean I've survived. It'll mean I'm alive.

There is nothing, not even a flicker of life in his face.

Fire is calling my name. It is whispering words of encouragement, sweet things. It wants out, for me to fan the heat until it’s a vortex that can’t and won’t be stopped.

They will never have this, will they? They might not ever know the feeling of cozying up to a lightning bolt, what it feels like to look at someone's face and see your heart there.

It takes a sharp blade, a huge effort to separate one half of a coin from the other. It would take something a hell of a lot stronger and sharper to separate me from her.

Only, they've done such a good job of making this place hell that I wouldn't be surprised if the real one turned out to be a much nicer place.

My eyes kept skipping back to her, drawn to her face like a lone candle flame in the dark