Cloudy Memories


The rough terrain and the clear waters are almost as textured as humanity. But nothing could have as many piercing spikes.
-S. R.

"We live our lives as if we have nothing
But to some small dreamers, we have everything."

- S. R.

"Here’s to the kids
who may have been shit at life
but couldn’t give a damn;
they were happy
and that’s all that mattered."

- S. R. (via vanilla-revenge)

(via vanilla-revenge)


1. I can’t breathe. Whenever my lungs try to grasp the oxygen right in front of me my heart just tells me that I don’t deserve it. That I don’t deserve anything.

2. I can’t speak. Every time words threaten to spill out of my lips, I hesitate. And in that hesitation I find all that is wrong. My flaws. Imperfections. Defects. Cracks. Scars. Me. I find my fucked-up self and I can’t let people hear that part of me. I just can’t risk it.

3. I can’t see. I don’t see what I want to see whenever I find a mirror. Instead I see what people want me to see and that’s the worst in me. I live in fear of the reflective because fear of my own reflection is at least the tiniest bit better than fear of my own self. I have at least the tiniest percentage of peace. But it can’t last. And I’m scared of the day when it will run out.

4. I can’t think. The thoughts in my head don’t even belong to me anymore. They aren’t from my soul and they don’t belong in my mind. Yet they’re trapped in my skull as if chains are holding them back from peace. I feel sorry for them until I realise that maybe they’re not trapped. Maybe they’ve decided to stay and take whatever there is left of my sanity. Well, if I had any in the first place.

I can’t breathe.
I can’t speak.
I can’t see.
I can’t think.

I can’t live.


- S. R.



How long does it take to heal a broken heart?
Or at least, to gather all the pieces together.



- S. R.

"I’m glad that I look like shit when I cry,
Because my pain is not supposed to be beautiful."

- S. R.

“May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.” 
- J. R. R. Tolkien

Photo by S. R.

"Her pain bore no true meaning."

- 6 word story #7  | S. R.

"The young wander by nature. We have yet to find our place."

- S. R.

"You’re telling me
that suicidal people
are just “angels
that want to go home.”
If that’s the case,
then why are we
constantly told that
is a one way ticket to

- make up your damn mind. | S. R.