As humans, our sense of doom is grossly overstated in literature and movies.

There is the sanity you feel, and there is the sanity you display. Most people don’t really care about the first one; they just wanted permission to avoid your crisis.

Sanitized, cleaned, my house was a mausoleum and the ghost it housed was me.

The worst is what happens when you’re blithely going about the dogged routine of your life, those moments when you’ve forgotten to have a guard up at all.

So bitter is the taste in my mouth, when I remember making that choice.

The words he couldn’t quite say out loud, would spill out in amber, copper, and red from the mouth of his brush. His paintings said I love you. I love you and I won’t leave you.