I guess every single day is a bad day. I tell myself that it's just the way things are right now. I tell myself that it will get better. I tell myself it has nothing to do with anything but the way my life is supposed to be. I lie through my teeth every morning, while my mind is screaming; the bad days are because of you.

There's something about a carousel. The way the dappled horses prance around in painted glee. How the music plays a familiar tune over and over again. The view of the familiar landscape passing by, hardly changing at all. The reflected images in the mirrors, of the way things should be. There's just something about a carousel...and the way the paint starts to chip.

Maybe she's trapped. Don't say she's not trying. Don't she she's not trying when she's screaming and flailing her arms. Don't you dare say she died without a fight.

You're not trying though - you're just running. Everybody can run...anybody can run. There's nothing special about running. It's only special when you push yourself that small ounce you thought you never could. It's only trying when your lungs are screaming and your pulse is racing and your heart is bursting. I know when you're trying, and you're not trying - you're just running.

I think you could fly if you wanted to. I think the world just tells everyone what they can't do. What good is science anyway? Just some useless facts and nonsense. Nothing very poetic about science. Don't let the world tell you what you can't do before you even try.

I wasn’t born to hate, and I wasn’t born to love. I’d like to think that I was born without a care in the world – until my first breath. Air seeped into my body, bringing life, and I screamed. It was painful, knowing that with that first breath I was now subject to a life full of hatred, love, and care. Things that would make me human, and that was certainly something I wasn’t happy to embrace.

The clock was ticking faster...
faster...
Seconds were speeding by, and it couldn't be stopped.
Nothing can stop the clock from moving forward.
What were you thinking?
You can't stop time.
Not even superman can stop time.

We're living inside a world where superheroes don't exist. That's what they told me. That's what they thought I would believe. They thought they could stop me with cold, dead words. They thought they could put out the fire with a speck of ice. Ice isn't any good when the fire is determined to keep burning. As long as the fire keeps burning, the chance of the hero lingers. Not everybody has to settle. Not everybody has to give up their dreams.

Courage is there for the things you don't want to do. You can't live in a world without courage. You can't live a life without being scared.

Her feet lifted off the ground.
She plumeted back to earth.
Try again, came a whisper.
She lifted her arms.
She would fly somehow,
even if it killed her.

Let's not let the past interfere with the future. We may not be able to forget all that we put ourselves through. We may not be able to take back the things we said, or the things we did. We should be able to let it all go though. You said you didn't care. So prove it to me, prove to me that you don't care anymore, and let go of yesterday.

I learned not to let my heart get tangled up in my mind. Hearts and minds fight with each other. The mind fights for what's right, and the heart fights for what it wants. My heart was beating for you, and my mind wanted it to stop. My mind would rather see me dead than with you again.

Don't tell me you're frusturated. I know that's a lie. You're angry. You're angry at me. You're angry at me for all I said to you, all I did to you. You think it's my fault. What did you want me to do? Did you want me to pretend everything was alright? Did you want me to pretend that I was fine with everything? Did you want me to put a fake smile on my face? Did you honestly think you could look in my eyes and see genuine contentment when I was looking at you?

Why I keep thinking of you, I'll never know. Why I waste so many thoughts and words on you, I don't think I want to know. It seems you're always taking up my time, and I might just be wasting it thinking of you. I wonder what it was you said that had my heart worried - beating with this sickness that leaves me confused.

I honestly can't say I'm proud of this. I'm not proud of everything that's happened. I'm not proud of the words that pour onto paper, or words that spill off my tongue. You're poison to me and my thoughts. You make me someone I don't want to be. Thanks for the memories - you're my forbidden fruit.

He stared at her. She was different. She had changed. She seemed stronger and somehow, less vulnearable. Her eyes were on fire, and they burned into his memory. It split his heart in two, and made his tongue burn with anger. Would he get her back for getting over him?

She kneeled down on the floor, flipping through the torn out pages. Her heart was scripted in a clumsy scrawl - line after line. A tear splattered onto a page, smearing the ink. She broke down, wishing that her memories would disappear.

Bite marks on her tongue, and scratches in her hands. Her teeth were clamping down her tongue, and her nails were clenching in her hands.

The snow began to fall again, and the coldness rushed in. Trees were stripped of their leaves, and the Earth loss her color. Hope began to crumble, and numbness crept in. It was horrible waiting for spring to come again.

Her dreams haunted her at night. Taunting her with happiness. Teasing her with hope. She could never live that way again. She didn't want to go through the nightmares that tore apart her dreams.

She wasn't always running, but she made it through. She stumbled and she fell, but she got back up and kept going. She wasn't going back to that, she wasn't turning around. She didn't even want to look. She might've tripped her way through the mess, but she made it through.

I think you got stuck somewhere in between yesterday and tomorrow. You were still wishing for the early colors of yesterday, and hating the sunset. You can't have yesterday anymore though, I wish you could see. And while you're still hanging onto yesterday, you're never going to see the sunrise of tomorrow.

And she was waiting for her life to pass her by. And she was wishing she could stop it, just for the moment. And she was wishing she could get to know him before he left her life, before he was ever a part of it. And she knew, that because of who she was, she would go through every day like she never thought about him once.

For everything that you go through, there are times where you don't have to be strong. There are times where it's healthy to cry, to scream, to be mad. Whether it's madness in anger or in sadness or in both. You don't have to pretend to be strong when every heartbeat hurts.

That one random song, which seems to have no point in life, gives her the most inspiration. When she listens to that song, her thoughts move. Her blood begins to rush with life. Her heartbeat races with passion. Words spill out onto pages. All because of one song, one pointless, stupid song.

Gravity will always be there, making you fall when you try to fly, laughing at your bruises. Gravity is there when your two years old and learning to walk. Gravity is there when you're learning how to ride a bike. Gravity is there when you're racing through life. Gravity will allow you to fall, and gravity will fill you with enough determination to get back up and try again.

The sun sinks beneath the horrizon, and her happiness disappears. Her sun is filling another world with light, bringing life. And she'll suffocate under darkness, looking for the stars that seem to be hidden so well. Yet, even in the darkest, deepest moment in the night, she knows the sun will rise again.

How can the world be so alone when there are people surrounding you every second of the day? How is it that the world can look past people, people who have things to say? Why does the world pick a few people to stand up, and why don't the other people stand up, too? The world is full of people with hearts that beat, and minds that race, and souls that speak. Why does the world choose to silence some people? Why does the world choose to silence itself?

The only way the world can keep turning, is if the world stops.

Life is a walking contradiction, always hand in hand. Good things can't come without the bad. There wouldn't be a purpose to happiness if there was no pain. Would there be reason for life if there was no death? Life is a walking contradiction, because without it, life wouldn't have a purpose. Life wouldn't exist.