I considered suicide, but I felt a strange fondness for my body, my life. Scarred as they were, they were mine.
You try to write about depression with a bottle in your hand and a cigarette between your teeth, reciting your own words under the light of a little dim reading bulb, describing the chilly air around and the intensity of every emotion you feel thinking that you are describing sadness, while in…
"I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once."request: dallasmatty.