And she so desperately loved God that she would take any chance she could to meet Him.
I wanted to say that the constant yearning is back. I tell myself for the first few days that I can get through this that I only have to survive until Sunday, but then suddenly I'm addicted again. I'm addicted to that euphoric sense of emptiness. That feeling a gripping your stomach and heart and knowing that nothing is there.
When No One's in the Room
I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared.
Do angels feel the same as I do? Do they too stare blankly at the wall and sit in silence? Do they whisper when they need to yell? When they cry are their eyes as dry as mine are? Are their sobs as silent as mine?
Farewell: The Unhealed Child
"He can't be the way he wants to be because of all his misery. He's lost in his crazy mind, his self-worth he cannot find. He struggles every day to love himself in every way. He lives with the pain and tears inside from all the bad memories that still remain behind. The thoughts in his head leave him no control, he has a deep black hole inside his soul. The thoughts of his life's past and the suffering on him which it has cast. He does his best to succeed and be the proud, loving, and strong man he so yearns to be. A bullied boy grew to be a lonely man who just can't understand, the true meaning of life as he struggles with this fight. He knows no inner joy, his mind has been destroyed. He has feelings of despair, to him his life cannot be repaired. He feels he can't exist in this world and his life is coming unfurled." - Carlo Bravo
Self Portrait: String of Fate, Insomnia
Every night I trace my arms from top to bottom, tugging on that little red string of fate tied loosely around my pinky, but no matter how much I tug that string, I can't seem to tug my eye lids closed with it.
Self Portrait: Make the Outside Match the Inside
Can you hear me God? Can you hear me though no one else does? I've etched malancholy 22 times, maybe more across the walls, across my face, across my arms. Can no one hear me?
Self Portrait: Gab, These Days
I don't know why I'm so in love with living yet hate the thought of being alive.
Self Portrait: Drunken Shower, Clean
I sit upon the floor and let the water wash away my sins. I've always loved a hot shower on a winter's day where you can sit and thaw out and lose track of whether or not tears pour own too.
Self Portrait: Recovering Perfectionist
For once I just want to feel pretty, really pretty, the kind that makes the room stop for a minute when you enter it. For once, I just want to know how that must feel.