There’s nothing romantic about collapsing on your bathroom floor at 3AM because your whole world came crashing down on you all over again. On nights like these, you won’t let yourself forget that this pain does not make you special or unique—It just tears holes in your soul deep enough to collapse an entire universe inside of you. Even then, when you’re admits the ugliness of your own brokenness— you know this void that you’ve tried aimlessly to concur does not come with road maps... so you stop asking for directions. You’ll tell yourself it’s because you’ve finally come to your senses...after all... this is just what it means to grow up. Even then, you’ll still wish that you were dead.
How can you possibly wreak anymore havoc on your soul when you yourself are already the chaos? The thunder and the storm? There’s just something so comfortable, and so unfortunate about darkness—and maybe that’s why so many of is live in for so long.
—until it consumes me
