It was always so much more interesting to be broken ( Read more... )

You spoke to me of Openness. Of Light. Unbearably bright light ( Read more... )

This journal is born of melancholy, of hope, of sadness, of Love, of pain, of random entanglements that are Not Love. From those raw materials, I've tried to create something approximating a beautiful fiction ( Read more... )

They are just shapes. Shapes that fit together into other shapes and make up a body. But the shapes have changed, the body new ( Read more... )

There are two of him. There's the one I pretend I do not know. The one I greet warmly, but not, too warmly, the one I have no claim on. The acquaintance ( Read more... )

There were other souls broken before mine, and while the better part of me hopes your pain inflicting days are over, there's the part who knows they're not, even hopes they're not. Because it's a pattern, and patterns are easier to deal with. If you have a pattern, it's easier to pretend that I was inconsequential ( Read more... )

You think that I'll make a difference. You think that I'm the biggest event you've experienced; that the effect of me on your life will be permanent, transformative ( Read more... )

My heart is bursting with happiness and hope for someone for whom I wish nothing but happiness and joy.

But, then there's that ego of mine: I feel slighted and hurt that I didn't get loved like that.

And worse: I am being loved like that, maybe even better. It's just that I don't [yet?] love back enough ( Read more... )

I was frightened of what I would see in his face when I revealed myself. But I did it: tore off the mask. I was expecting to see a flash as he raised his shield, or horror frozen upon him. I expected repulsion, fear, hate. Instead, when I removed the mask, he looked at me steadily, accepting this new me, as if there was no surprise, as if what ( Read more... )