Part of me was dead.
Yet to be dead was to live and to live was to be dead.
Death can be a curse.
A blessing.
A gift.
A gift in which being dead while breathing air.
Makes you enough to feel nothing and to feel everything.
To want nothing to yearn for everything. To detest the ones who have everything to desire the everything.
We all were born to die.
Death will come to all.
Seek.
Hide.
No matter....no matter.
~C.Ø.

-

Why fall in love when you can fall asleep? Even though sleep is filled with fears called nightmares.~C.Ø.