I remember a class where the teacher said I'd get full credit if I just promised to stop doing what I was doing and never do it again.
These demons can't be burned. They will not freeze. The sweat on your skin will never be their last. And if you still say: we only do what we want, I say: okay. Fear remembers me as a friend. The first cut is the deepest... and I try to love again. Powder and dust to rose-colored skin. Just a few stones in a big river, even a promise of fun.
"Not only are there no happy endings," she told him, "there aren't even any endings." But he still looks for one.