She was broken from moment to moment, watching her world collide she felt lost inside herself. She fell apart for a passion that flamed beneath her. She waited and died a hundred times, it dripped from her pores. The moment she let go, she soared over the stillness like the star she was born to be.
Maybe I hope too much. Maybe I dream too much or maybe I love too much to just give up on you.
She was broken, I think it’s because she loved too much and she was always blind to the fact that love too is sometimes broken.
Death is the easy part, the hard part is living and knowing you could be so much more then you’re willing to be.
She was a beautiful dreamer. The kind of girl, who kept her head in the clouds, loved above the stars and left regret beneath the earth she walked on.
Somewhere along the way we all go a bit mad. So burn, let go and dive into the horror, because maybe it’s the chaos which helps us find where we belong.
It’s funny, for all it took was a broken heart and that alone was enough, enough for her to do everything she ever dreamed of.
If I lived a million lives, I would’ve felt a million feelings and I still would’ve fallen a million times for you.
The truth is I didn’t need therapy; I just needed to feel loved and know that someone out there craved my attention.
To be human is to be broken and broken is its own kind of beautiful.