SourestSkittle

"You know what?" "No, what?" "We should never fall in love." "Huh? Why?" "Well, it's simple, really." "Explain it to me, then." "We're opposites, you and me. You're the sun, I'm the moon. You are day, I am night. You're warm and you beat with the vitality of life. I'm pretty chilly and I beat my fists against the mirror for showing me reality instead of dreams." "I still don't quite understand." "I am a dreamer, and you are a dream." "Thanks, I guess." "No, listen--you're like the people who say 'save the whales'. You want to save the world, you want to do some good. You want to make a change, make a difference. And me... well, I'm

You are my obsession. Source of my depression. One that I crave. Love that is depraved. I still hold on to. I would die for you. Even if you're not here. My mind just won't clear. Only one I want. Continually haunt. Mentally I attack. I'd still take you back. Glad you disappeared. Return I feared. Walk through my door. Want you even more. Wonder if I'll heal. Was this even real?

She speaks to me fondly of passions and talents, of guitars and stars, with such breathless intensity then stops short and apologises for speaking at all. All because somewhere in her life, someone she loved broke her heart by ignoring her beautiful words and telling her to shut up, keep it down, nobody cares. People aren’t born sad. We make them that way.

 "What are you doing?" "I think…I finally figured out percentages." "We learnt those in the third grade." "Yeah, but we always complained that we'd never use them in real life." "And you know how to use them in real life now?" "Eighty four percent." "What's that?" "That's the percentage of how many basketball matches you lost to me when we were kids." "That's not fair! You're taller than me!" "Fifty two percent." "Is that how much taller than me you are?" "No. That's the percentage of times you speak out of turn and get into trouble for it." "Very funny." "Twenty three percent." "Let me guess, that's how much I annoy you?"

"You need to stop doing this." "Stop doing what?" "Writing me into your stories." "...why?" "Because…it scares me. I'm not this guy that you write about. I'm not some kind of Prince Charming and I'm certainly not a sea God or whatever you like to say about my eyes every now and then." "Oh really?" "Yeah. You really need to work on your judgement of people, because this is all wrong. It's like you don't know me at all!" "So why don't you correct me and I'll fix my idea of you accordingly." "Well…firstly, I'm a really nervous person." "Yeah. Your hands are either fiddling with your hair or your sleeve, or you're biting y

"Hi, I'm-" "I know who you are." "You do?" "You're the guy who thinks he's invisible." "I have a name-" "It isn't important. Because you really don't think it's important." "All right. Since we've started out this way, let me just tell you, I know you too." "Yeah?" "You're the girl who is broken." "I am not broken." "You're the girl whose eyes close every night and open the next morning, only to find you have never slept at all." "I sleep well. Besides-" "You're the girl who dreams of a happy ending even though she has seen seventeen...no, eighteen unhappy ones in her eighteen years." "Happy endings are over rated. And you're-"

"Hey! Are you all right?" "Sure, why wouldn't I be?" "Um...because you just fell from the roof of the hou-" "See, that's where you're wrong. I didn't fall. The floor challenged me and I accepted." "And how did that go for you?" "The floor won. But only because it had the advantage." "Of being non sentient and vast in size, along with the fact that there is a freaking storm out!!" "Nope. I just attacked from the wrong position." "Backwards?" "I overestimated my skills." "I'll say. You're bleeding!" "Only a little. Ask me again." "What?" "If I'm fine." "Are you?" "Nope." "Is it because you're bleeding?" "You're supposed to ask

I was just nineteen years old When I cut myself in two The boy I wanted them to see And the boy they never knew Hid my hollow bones away I've been hiding ever since Yes, you may see the odd smile But only ever a glimpse But my heart was never broken It was born in several pieces And with every passing year The size of the segments decreases I was just nineteen years old When I died for the first time I did not cope so well With leaving my childhood behind I didn't want to face up To these wretched bent back blues But will I give in to the struggle? No, with respect I refuse See my grandfather gave me The stubborn heart o

Last night you gave me a star A resplendent little light You made it a surprise Hiding it behind your thumb all night So I wouldn't notice The new twinkle In our night's sky Till finally "Without further ado" You whispered to me As you showed me Our own little island In a sea of darkness and wonder. "Make a wish" you smiled bashfully "Its your star after all" And I wished I wished a million times On that tiny light That one day I might be able to give you All the stars in our sky.

There are some words Many words ,in fact, That aren't meant to be read By an audience. That aren't meant to be condemned And criticized For their validity and originality. There are some words Who's only  point is to exist. To give existence To someone. To show someone their pain is real That its important. Their anger is real That its just. Their love is real That's its true. Their hearts are real That  they 're whole... Even if no one else sees them that way Even  if no else knows them that way Even if no one understands Or reads those words. Those words hold our hearts And that's all their meant to do.