ZThemes

The best thing you can possibly do to love yourself is to not invest your heart and soul into the people who will treat you like garbage.

The Turning of The Damned

"Then why…?"

"Why…?"

"Why become one of the damned?"

Becoming one of the damned hadn’t been my choice. In my era it was much like a sickness. You would go to sleep healthy and then ‘wake up’ stricken with death. But it wasn’t death was it? It was pain. Unsurmountable pain. It was the death of all that was around you and all that you were. Complete damnation. It would creep and course through your blood slowly, and through it all there was nothing to be found other than the maddening pain.

And then…when it was over. .

There was emptiness. Such utter, hollow emptiness. And your world would crumble to be as dead as the eyes that beheld them.

Eyes close, the words stilling.

" ..I’m sorry…" Her eyes flickered downwards, lashes obscuring her olive hues.

Avares chuckled. “What? Has my devious trickery tugged upon your strings of pity? Be wary, the damned will do anything to trick you won’t they?”

"I believe your story.."

"Ah good. Then my vampyre magic worked."

You’re a grenade.

Đestroying yourself while destroying everything around you.

How to quell the annoying thrum? How to suffocate that rhythmic throbbing? Thoughts upon that aching mass, that weakened muscle that feebly, stubbornly scrapes along. 

So tired of trying to please everyone,
A million different opinions,
I’m just going to be myself whether they like it or not,
I’m giving it all that I got.

- Old School | B. Reith

I’d really like to know who this artist is.
source: http://thewelshwolf.blogspot.co.uk/
Words to live by.

Drifting Insomnia.

Steady breaths and falling rain. Tranquility blanketed an uneasy soul allowing you to rest through the night. Leaving behind a simple reprieve. And a rogue desire to protect the moment of peace now draped over your weary heart.

——- ʀ ᴀ ɪ ɴ. Giving way to tranquility. Lost to sweet memory. Bringing a sense of serenity as I watch you beside me. Our loneliness is beautiful.  ——-

Hair on end. Cold seeps beneath the skin. Move through the room and soak it in. When the air is stale, when the temperatures drop, remember the silence that was lost to the world. Counting minutes and counting days. It’s all a haze. Static. And the organ beats. Static, then the rhythmic beats. One, two, three.

Paradise. One, two, three, four, more. Paradise. Let’s bring them all inside.