Breathing Is Optional, But I Need Some

The Past Is Made Out Of Facts...i Guess The Future Is Just Hope.

Sometimes It's A Struggle To Live In The Moment.

My "heart". Does That Pitiful Organ Still Represent Anything? It Lies Motionless In My Chest, Pumping No Blood, Serving No Purpose, And Yet My Feelings Still Seem To Originate Inside Its Cold Walls. My Muted Sadness, My Vague Longing, My Rare Flickers Of Joy. They Pool In The Center Of My Chest And Seep Out Of There, Diluted And Faint, But Real.

Every Experience, Good Or Bad, Is A Priceless Collector's Item.

Stop. Breathe Those Useless Breaths. Drop This Piece Of Life You’re Holding To Your Lips. Where Are You? How Long Have You Been Here? Stop Now. You Have To Stop. Squeeze Shut Your Stinging Eyes, And Take Another Bite.