I am nothing but novocaine. I am numb, a world of nothing, all feeling and emotion gone forever. I am a whisper that never was.
Hope. It’s like a drop of honey, a field of tulips blooming in the springtime. It’s a fresh rain, a whispered promise, a cloudless sky, the perfect punctuation mark at the end of a sentence. And it’s the only thing in the world keeping me afloat.
Aaron Warner Anderson, chief commander and regent of Sector 45, son of the supreme commander of The Reestablishment. He has a soft spot for fashion.
Someone picked up the sun and pinned it to the sky again, but every day it hangs a little lower than the day before. It’s like a negligent parent who only knows one half of who you are. It never sees how its absence changes people. How different we are in the dark.
The tattoo is just setting below his hp bone. H e l l i s e m p t y a n d a l l t h e d e v i l s a r e h e r e I kiss my way across the words. Kissing away the devils. Kissing away the pain.
Girls are always talking about electricity in their romance, but none are too happy to actually be electrocuted, apparently. Bloody confusing, is what it is.
It’s the kind of kiss that inspires stars to climb into the sky and light up the world.
Find me a cure for these tears, I’d really like to exhale for the first time in my life.
My life is four walls of missed opportunities poured in concrete molds.
I can do anything I want. Be with anyone I want. And it’ll be my choice.
Every butterfly in the world has migrated to my stomach.
Come back to life, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.
People seldom realize that they tell lies with their lips and truths with their eyes all the time.
I’ve come to believe that the most dangerous man in the world is the one who feels no remorse. The one who never apologizes and therefore seeks no forgiveness. Because in the end it is our emotions that make us week, not our actions.
Love is a heartless bastard.
I almost forget that she still hates me, despite how hard I’ve fallen for her. And I’ve fallen. So hard. I’ve hit the ground.
I am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction.
Hate looks like everybody else until it smiles.
And if you insist on continuing to make assumptions about my character, I’ll advise you only this: assume you will always be wrong.
Can you hear my heart? I want to ask him. I want you to make a list of all your favorite things, and I want to be on it.