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| Y | ou know the feeling. The feeling you get when you hold your life in your hands; but your life is like little broken bits of glass. You feel the pieces slipping through your fingers, and you know there is nothing you can do to stop them. You squeeze your hands together tighter and tighter--the glass only cuts deeper and deeper. But you can't stop. The feeling won't allow you; you can't let go of life--even this broken one. |
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| Vincent van Gogh. The Starry Night. 1889. Canvas. 29 x 361/4" (73.7 x 92.1 cm). |
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smashed up my everything smashed up all that was true gonna smash myself to pieces i don't know what else to do covered in hope and vaseline still cannot fix this broken machine watching the hole it used to be mine just watching it burn in my steady systematic decline | |
| --Nine Inch Nails: Gave Up | |
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And the devil in black dress watches over My guardian angel walks away Life is short and love is always over in the morning Black wind come carry me far away With the sunlight died and night above me With a gun for a lover and a shot for the pain inside | |
| --The Sisters of Mercy: Temple of Love | |
| Random or systematic abuse concerning these pages. |
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