Hurting me is not the way to make me disappear, it's like you are sticking me to you with a knife and the deeper you stab me the closer you push me towards you.

Losing you is not my worst fear, it's you losing me.

Promises are easy to make, hard to keep. Why did you make me feel it was hard to make, when it was easy to break.

Second chance is: a different start, the same end.

You know you are in love when; you text him (I MISS YOU) while he is right beside you not looking, just to see him smiling when he discovers it is you.

You know you are in love when; you find yourself smiling for no obvious reason and people stare at you not knowing that he has just crossed your mind.

I have been suffering and struggling inside but I never said
But I guess it doesn't matter anymore since I am now dead

From my poem R.I.P

Loving you hurts thus so pleasurable. It's like you are stabbing me and then kissing my wound.

I keep telling myself I'll get over this, then my own reflection in the mirror reminded me of him... I broke the mirrors. I no longer remember how I look like. And still can't get over this.

My silence was a Bless, you pushed me to talk and now blaming me for the Mess.