Ominous Kv Rose Quotes

Do you not like taking hints or do you just enjoy me cutting myself open for you?” He smiles with the question, but there’s still an edge to the morbid words.

Tempus edax rerum. Time devours all things.

We all want someone to want all the fucked-up parts of us, don’t we?” She glances at me. “Yours just happen to be a little more fucked than the rest of us.

Anger over fear, because one makes you move and the other can freeze you.

Touch me, so I can see if I hate the way you feel like I do everyone else.

There is no part of you I don’t love, fly too close to the sun. fall from grace. Drowning under the sea. Every stage, every mood, anything you’ve ever done…I love you still.

He’s happy. I was born sad.

I know you’re a filthy little…

Don’t make me toss you off of this balcony.” She tightens her grip, her chest pressing closer to me. “You wouldn’t.” Her eyes find my mouth. “You’d miss me too much.

We skipped the small talk because two souls know when they’re conceived to collide. They don’t need an introduction. They just fucking ruin each other without a hello.

Maybe because I know I’d never truly hurt her. As it is, I think she has the most power to hurt me. I’m just not sure she recognizes it yet.

Yeah. Everyone wants to pretend they’re sympathetic to people with mental illnesses until they start showing signs of being mentally fucking ill.

Because it’s the only way we can feel,” I answer her, my nails biting into her palm. “Deeply, or not at all.

Our souls don’t know how to crawl closer. We run head on, seeing the impact up ahead, but we can’t stop. Or maybe we just don’t want to. We know the wreck will be worth it.

She is a mess, she’s decided, and no one wants a mess. Not a real one. Not an unromanticized version of one.

No one wants to be the recipient of one of those disorders with no cure, no treatment, no understanding.

Why does everything always feel so heavy between us?” It takes me by surprise, her question. But it gets under my skin, too, because there’s nothing about it that isn’t true. “Because it’s the only way we can feel,” I answer her, my nails biting into her palm. “Deeply, or not at all.

It makes the thought of the future hurt that much more. I think I’d let him get away with anything at all, stabbing me over and over and over, if only he would beg me to come back, over and over again, just like this. The torture kind of makes life worth living. The power makes me feel loved.

Haunted memories, waking up in a cold sweat because they infected your dreams, remembering you have no future because you live with a brain which hates you, imagining someone you love walking out, over and over and over… Therapists. Medications. Psychiatrists. Studies. Blood on your hands. No one wants that. No one wants the reality of mental illness.

I always wondered what it would be like, having sex with a man who killed me at the end of it.

Me: I want you. Come here. I’ve never meant anything more. Her: I wish I could. I want to do everything you say, Eli. Even when you’re acting like a spoiled fucking brat.

I could feel their eyes on me like living things, no matter how far I used to pull my hood over my head.

I don’t give him anything at all.

Isn’t this exactly what gets girls in trouble? Thinking bad boys are good, only to them?

The right side sees the romance in the darkness.

I’d lie down at her feet, I’d do anything she asked me to, I’d let her hurt me and punish me if she wanted,

You want someone to know all of your bullshit, and want you anyway, because you’re so tired of pretending, aren’t you?

Eli is worse than thunder. Than lightning. He’s spread out like rain, but more volatile, like wind.

Sometimes, I’m scared to live inside my own head. Sometimes, I think things would be scarier if he lived in there too.

If you act like your secrets matter, anyone who steals one has power over you.

I can still feel his teeth on my lips. His mouth devouring mine. I didn’t really get a breath, the way he kissed the life out of me.

I know I was born wrong. Sometimes there’s not a reason why.

This time, I want someone to bleed for me.

I think I’d let him get away with anything at all, stabbing me over and over and over, if only he would beg me to come back, over and over again, just like this.

The torture kind of makes life worth living. The power makes me feel loved. It’s why we won’t make it. You can only survive so many knife wounds before you simply… bleed out.

You have to hold your breath a long time to go that far under.

You’re so fucking perfect for me.

Him: I didn’t shower. I still smell like you. Him: It’s driving me fucking crazy.

I close my eyes, and I don’t sleep, but there’s nothing but emptiness in my mind. Despite the storm raging outside, she quiets the one inside of me.

I know I can’t ask her directly. No one likes to suddenly unearth all the pain they’ve spent a lifetime burying.

When you’re free, don’t run.

My little angel, built for sin.

my fingers slip beneath the hem of her shirt. My shirt. What’s the difference anymore? We’re the same.

but what he really means is, I won’t die soon. And all I can think is, you’ll leave me.

I’m growing calm, like he digs peace out of me with his aggression.

There’s a shyness to her voice that makes me want to fuck it out of her.

I’ll have to see if I can—” “You can. But find out if you want to.

Me: I’m coming to watch you tomorrow. Please him. Him: I like when you listen.

I like you too much.” One day, I will. But not today. In my head, I hear my own words, and I meant them. I protect you.

Him: Ah, you are awake. My cheeks ache with my smile. Him: You tell them you’re safe with me. Him: It’s a lie, of course. Him: Because when I get you alone, I’m going to eat you alive.

Mental illness is symptoms and impaired decisions and blackouts and snap reactions, but sometimes, it’s silence. Sometimes, there are no words to describe the darkest, bleakest feelings. The ones that eat you alive, inside your head. Those are hushed whispers, thoughts unvoiced. The scary things that make you feel as if you’re losing your humanity. No one wants to admit to spiraling. When anyone asks you how you are, you’re fine. Because how can you say you hate yourself out loud? How can you say something isn’t right inside a place no one can see?

I think you might’ve been happy then. But you’ve just been low, haven’t you?” It’s true. I have. I nod once, thinking of when I was high. When I could fly, and when we were both in the clouds.

He’s like the ocean, you know. The surface always looks so calm, most nights,” I don’t miss the fact she uses night instead of day, “but underneath, it could be hell, and no one would ever know, unless they dive in deep.