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the only time i can write is when i either feel like dying or i am falling in love. |
| Something in me is not letting me be in love with this life. Something I cannot describe won’t let me live. It’s not letting me be alive. So I suffer between death and existence, fully knowing I won’t experience how it feels to be so loved that I’d never fear death. I am a paradox. I keep imagining something unimaginable — something that makes me sad. I want to live and be content, but I want and seek things that make me wish I was never born. I am a paradox. -A.V. |
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