So can you do me a favor?
If I pull it together, make it sooner than later.
We wont be here forever,
And i'll realize I waited too long.
But please don’t move on.




It’s overused. It’s a cliché. It’s corny. It’s just a line.
It’s illogical. It’s troublesome. It’s always too abrupt.
It’s never on cue. It’s difficult to say. It will be held against you.
It’s too bold. It’s often quite pathetic.
It’s amazing how, after everything, I love you still works.




I met someone. It was an accident. I wasn’t looking for it.
I wasn’t on the make. It was a perfect storm.
She said one thing , I said another, next thing I knew,
I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation.



When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth.



Leave me, leave me, I can't fucking stand you.
Wish I had the courage to say everything I planned to.



In the years afterward, I fled whenever somebody began to understand me. That has subsided. But one thing remained: I don't want anybody to understand me completely. I want to go through life unknown. The blindness of others is my safety and my freedom.



Somewhere we know that without silence words lose their meaning,
that without listening speaking no longer heals,
that without distance closeness cannot cure




Smart people talk about ideas.
Common people talk about things.
Mediocre people talk about people.



I am your thought but the water is amnesia
My name is on the tip of your tongue
My image is slipping
But your memory is gripping it
This is my breath in your lungs




Just pick a place, and I’ll be there. Pick anything that’s what I’ll be.
Give me anything to say, even if it’s nothing. That’s all you’ll hear.
Everything was never enough for you. Do you ever say my name?
Or do you ever write down broken thoughts and turn them into songs to throw away?
Do you ever close your eyes and wish they’ll never open again?
I do, it’s always worse in silence…No lies to tell no one to hear.
When air turns cold. We sleep alone.
Everytime I try to say your name it’s always worse

I went so fucking far to please you. It makes me sick.

I'm mad at myself, not you. I'm mad for always being nice, always apologizing for things I didn't do, for getting attached, for making you my life, depending on you, wasting my time on you, thinking about you, following you, changing for you, forgiving you, wishing for you, dreaming of you, and most of all for not hating which I know I should, but can't.