No two persons ever read the same book.
—Edmund Wilson (via observando)
Sometimes it hurts. It hurts so much I can’t breathe. And even when I do manage to catch a quick gasp of air it’s gone before my body has a chance to recover. I’m left restless with a heart that beats too fast and a brain that won’t slow down. I often wonder if I’ll ever be able to stop myself from slipping off the edge and into this pit. Maybe if I were able to build a fence or put up a sign. Caution, don’t stand too close. It’s bad enough I spend my life afraid of that cliff, of the next inevitable fall. I can’t help but wonder if I’d be better off flinging myself over before I manage to drag someone down with me.