You Were Spring Except, No You Weren’t, You Were The Leftover Winter And The Misty Summer And The Sweetest

Life goes on, without checking if it's messing some passengers, without looking behind.

Life goes on, even if the clock stopped for you, even if you didn't go on.

Life goes on. It doesn't care about what you lost in the way, and it wouldn't let you go back.

Life goes on, like nothing happened, despite all that happened, and leaves you feeling like nothing will happen anymore.

Life goes on. Maybe I'll catch up one day, maybe the time will stop just to wait for me, to let me take a breath and get out of my overwhelmed mess, maybe it will allow me a break to break down peacefully, without worrying about the lost time when life goes on without me.

Life goes on, what a surprise, the sun will always set and rise, night will fall and the next day will come, forgetting about the people who couldn't come along.

— roach-works

Leila Chatti, from "Postcard from Gone"

They say “fake it till you make it.” The problem with that though is that you’ve been faking it all week, and now all you have to show for it is a new car, a new job, new friends, a newfound sense of purpose, and…. Ah.

I might never be a notable writer and I might never get a huge book deal and my books might never get turned into movies but who cares? I've found absolute paradise sitting on my porch in the rain weaving words together and feeling the cool wind of an august storm on my face. No failure could ever take this sort of joy away from me.

When I was young my dad offhandedly told me he thought people treated fish with so much casual cruelty because fish can’t scream.

The words branded themselves across my soul.

As an adult I think he may have been joking. He payed no especial attention to any indignities fish suffered in our household but I could never forget. I saw fish in a different light after that.

Fish kept in tiny bowls, breathing their own poisons, dying by inches. Fish kept in cold tanks, casually disposed of. Fish touted as being short lived when they could outlive the better loved family dog if only they could breathe. Fish casually won and discarded in cheap plastic bags, thrown away a week later.

How they would scream, if they could.

Poisonous passions

Your love is like a fire,

I felt it burn within,

Yet, that burning,

Dims with each, dying, day.

Your love is like fire, and ice,

Felt, truly, only once, maybe twice.

I fail to feel your love now,

For you set me here and left.

You pushed me. Too far.

Now, I cannot stop myself from falling,

You put me from hell;

I got no glimpse of heaven.

I fail to believe in a god above,

For I don't believe I deserve the pain you bestowed upon me,

Or is it all that I deserve?

The nerve.

Your love, it's like poison...

When I felt it, it burnt.

You burn like fire,

Your flame, blackened.

You burned.

Your wood- turned to ash.

Your flame- died out.

Now, I live without you.

Happier than ever,

Despite the lasting baggage,

No poison. No pain.

Still, my heart stings sometimes,

When I remember those times,

When I was with you,

When you ruined me.