The Words That Never Should've Been Written

The conversations never going to be finished, the expositions at two a.m...

[mynamesdanger]

A Quiet Place

PLAYLIST:

Cruel World~ Phantogram

Comatose~ Skillet

Backbone~ Daughtry

The Dark Of You~ Breaking Benjamin

Numb~ Linkin Park

Starlight~ Starset

Work Song~ Hozier

Alleyways~ The Neighbourhood

Hallelujah~ Panic! At The Disco

Hear me~ Imagine Dragons

Sleepsong~ Bastille

Human~ Rag’n’Bone Man

Speeding Cars~ Walking On Cars

Remember This~ NF

Gasoline~ Halsey

Hallucinogenics~ Matt Maeson

The Beautiful And The Damned~ G-Eazy

The Mountain~ Three Days Grace

Us~ James Bay

[thenightswehaveleft-blog]

if i were to see the war raging in your head, maybe the lightning flashing in your eyes would finally make sense. maybe if i could see the wars you've already survived i would understand the sunken eyes and the violent sobs in the middle of the night. maybe if i could see all the fake words you say i could finally see why i'll walk in to a blank stare and unhealed wounds. but i can't.  so TELL ME

excerpt from a book i’ll never write #4 (S.W.)

[thenightswehaveleft-blog]

there are some extremes i will not go to. i will not hurt a child. i will not hurt an innocent who did nothing to me. but you. you, you tore at me like i was a rabbit and you were the wolf. you played and plucked the strings of my heart and then snapped them in half. you burned me like i was nothing more than another victim in your resume, and i wont have that. i don't care if i seem crazy. i'll burn you down to the ground quicker than it'll take you to say "i'm sorry", because you're not sorry. and you won't ever be. so take this as a mercy that i'm not playing your same games.

D.E. excerpt from a book i’ll never write #3 

[thenightswehaveleft-blog]

7 years old, everything was okay. nothing but smiles, joy and laughter. never seen blood other than scraped knees. sadness didn’t exist unless there was no more ice cream. there was no question about who you were or who you were going to be. 9 years old, world falling apart around you. nothing just forced smiles, anger and outbursts. no more than the small trickles of your blood did you ever want to see. happiness didn’t exist unless somehow the dead were brought back to life. There were thousands of questions; but the most prominent being how you were the key to your own life 11 years old, chaos turning in calculation. nothing more than grimaces, fake grins and masked rage. blood staining your hands but not too much, not that you couldn’t clean. contentment was a myth created by those who had never felt loss and loneliness. questioning your future was no longer the normal; no, you questioned what you were becoming. 13 years old, madness like a familiar tang on your tongue. life full of lies, deceit, and blistering hot infuriation. blood darkening on clothes you knew would never be cleaned again. pain a simmering feeling just underneath the surface that threatened to leak out. the person you became may not be the person you were becoming and you hoped that was true. 15 years old, acting another weapon in an ever expanding arsenal. full of manipulation, thievery and running so the anger stayed in front of the pain. blood staining underneath fingernails with the dirt of graves and you knew you couldn’t stand to look at them anymore. smiling and saying you were okay becoming the default answer. there was no turning back to the person you could be. 17 years old, grinning through the fear and spitting out the bitter taste of regret. nothing except sly words, twisted truths and bittersweet lies. the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth as you look at the damage you’ve caused. lying through your teeth feeling nothing but familiar and okay, not sour. the most okay you’ve been in years but the worst you’ll ever be. 19 years old, eyes bloodshot from all the sleepless nights. you are no more than the sweet lies you spin, the fear in others’ eyes as the words drain from your throat and into the cold air, and the anger swallowing you whole when faced with the people who ruined your life. the blood dripping into your eyes vibrant red like it contained all the hopes and dreams of the people you deceived. resentment running through your veins the more opportunities you find to ruin yourself. you were wrong two years ago; this is the worst side of you, but it’s the best for survival.

“Nothing Was Okay” (S.W.)

[thenightswehaveleft-blog]

"was there ever any doubt i would succeed?" "actually, there was a lot. nobody believed you could do it." "i don't blame them. i'm sort of a disappointment, if you haven't noticed."

K.C.//Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #2

[thenightswehaveleft-blog]

i don't want to be remembered as you think of me. i don't want to be remembered as misunderstood. i don't want to be remembered as the face of the forgotten. i want to be remembered as a thief. i want to be remembered as cold, and calculating. i want them to hear my name and fear i have come back from the grave looking for them. i want them to fear my name and fear my legacy. when i die, i don't want your pity, and i don't want you influencing the opinions of others. you can only imagine the only ways i will ever go down.  i will go down in the glory of fire and smoke. i will burn like a phoenix but refuse to come back. and, dammit, i want to be remembered as more than you seem to think i am.

N.C.//Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #1

[thenightswehaveleft-blog]

you knew you were ice cold. they knew you were ice cold. since when did you forget the cold could be melted by fire. why did you ever think that getting close to someone with that kind of fire in them.  that fire could hurt you, and i told you that, but you never believed me.  i saw the change. i tried to help you. you didn't want help. but when he left...oh, saints, when he left, there wasn't much of you left to salvage. you weren't ice cold anymore, you were boiling water. you were best left untouched; if i got to close you'd burn me. you wouldn't let me in. you wouldn't let your own damn sister in. trust me, there's a damn reason you're on your own.

Dylan S.//Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #3