*໋ﾞ ‍ ²⁴ ‍ ଼ ݁ ‍ ℎ͟𝑜͟𝑙͟𝑙͟𝑎͟𝑛͟𝑑͟𝑒͟𝑟 .

art & love are the same thing. it's the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you.

against all odds, i hope.

if i shall be saved, it will be because your love redeems me.

you will never be clean from sin. rotten souls like yours don't deserve heaven.

his heart was dearer to me than my own.

you want to be brothers in arms. to be shipwrecked together, to perform valiant deeds to earn his admiration, to die with - and for - him. you want him to know what cannot be spoken, and to make the perfect reply, in the same language.

i think god loves everyone — but me. i think god is ashamed of me. when i scream, he covers his ears, rolls his eyes and goes back to sleep. he drowns my screams in the sounds of people praising him but god — please, do you hear me?

more often than not, the dog that bites is the dog that thinks it has no other option; i feel as though my body language is constantly screaming “if you don't keep your fingers out of the bars you are going to get them torn off.”

i can't get rid of the filth.

i would drape my own soul over her body to protect her from eyes like mine.