Sometimes the one toi take the bullet for is the one who pulls the trigger. </3

Just before toi die, toi see a reflection of the one toi l’amour and toi realize that toi gave everything and got nothing.

But sometimes you're just imagining that you're seeing them.

Sometimes, the person toi take the bullet for is yourself.

Sometimes it's toi that's pulling the trigger and toi can't, toi just don't want to, admit it.

And sometimes, toi find yourself so Lost in the midst of the blood that toi don't realize that maybe it wasn't toi whole pulled the trigger on yourself.

You pulled it on someone else...

This was what he wrote on his birthday this year:

Two decades - a bit more.
The tears, the scars.
The sweat, the pain.
23 funerals.
The toils of life.
Life itself.
FUCK. The struggle.
I. CANNOT. EVEN.
But today is a different day.
The beginning of a new me.
The end of the old me.
I can lie no longer.
I've got to be true to myself.
All I've lived up to begins to
unravel
to reveal itself.
Today.
No longer am I the
bastard of ole.
The dick of yonder.
I am
XANTONA
ESTAFANO
EVINVALDO
da SILVA
SANTOS
RIVEIROS.
I'm gonna be a fuckin' legend.
I'm gonna be in the books.
But I have already been
bathed
in 21 years:
252 months:
7,560 days:...

This is an entry from Xante's journal. It was on his bureau and the page was bookmarked:

I shall die forgotten
Yet I live unremembered.
I shall died uncared for
Yet I live neglected.
The hatred.
The push-pull of life.
The tears.
The push-pull of love.
I am not over here.
I am not over there.
I am not purgatory.
I am not nowhere.
So where do I belong?
DO I belong?
How would I know if there's a path worth taking?
What's dark is light.
What's light is dark.
What I once thought was mine belongs to someone else.
I don't even belong to myself.
I shall die unquestioned
Yet I live unasked.
I shall die under-worked
Yet I live...