َ

my heart has its own unique color, sound and texture. it is woven from frosty silence

just resting from your own head by switching off thoughts isn't enough – i want to crawl out of my body and be a real ghost for a while, watching everyone without getting involved in my own problems

this autumn smells of gloom and isolation

you are like an angel; nothing can touch you. or like an evil spirit: everyone fears it, yet no one has seen it. and if anyone has, they are either lying or already driven mad.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏take my blood

no sin – no repentance

melancholy has its own beauty solitude has its own peace

† †

everything i touch turns to ice. living with black-and-white thinking, i didn't notice how the world truly faded into shades of gray, leaving nothing bright in my eyes and stealing the joy from everything colorful

for as long as i exist, i'll be a rotten soul. i'll be the person people regret meeting. i'll be the sin, and i'll be the punishment

once enough irritation accumulates, it will burst out in a destructive way that is impossible to predict. some things are simply beyond control

never beating the off-putting allegations