I have a tendency of writing the boring out of my life, and into glorious and beautiful little lies.  I habitually write until the gray is transformed into a technicolor existence where gravity is nothing more than a fleeting dream.  But occasionally, my vision shifts and then I am not entirely sure which world is actually real, and instead of ( Read more... )

I think there must be nothing more lovely than this life at the point of death, for that is life in its rarest and most exquisite form: graceful, sumptuous, cruel, and efficient. And the world, I think, is the most perfect culmination of art and sacrifice, pain and breath, and I'm so glad to have lived in the beautiful divisions of its torture.

You can practically tell the mood of a person just by their greeting. To me, "hi's" are awkward unless capitalized and/or followed by exclamation point(s). Meaning they are annoyed, sad, mad, or really just do not care. ie ( Read more... )

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“Isn’t the silence oppressive”, she asks, and his answer is no.  An evening parabolic by definition.  She knows because each sensation is equidistant from the fixed point of her emotion.  It is a love close to that of a young aristocrat clutching the hemlines of divinity with pale palms that have yet to see the sun rising with the opening of a pair ( Read more... )

I am graduating in under an hour!!

The echo of your name perishes in the silence fading; a resonant and persistent tone that kisses the ear and plays interest to the heart.
Nevertheless, as if it were really from the soil and spoils of the storms, as if it had not just leaned in and kissed the surface, and moreover more then can witness of sufficient and overbearing causes that I may ( Read more... )

Time is a cool breeze stirring a lake of soft, gray waves.

Everything lately has been in excess.  I drink my fill of words, apply an extra coat of mascara to go to Walgreen’s, find my hand gliding along the smooth white paper of my sketchbook even when my mind’s canvas is blank, my hair is brushed, my face is never oily, I check my voicemail when I ( Read more... )

Yeah, it is a sad and beautiful world.

And love is something that wakes up in the middle of the night and burns the house down.

Rainstorms make the air so sweet and the sky so textured, soaking through my canvas shoes and the cuffs of my jeans tickling the sensitive skin on my face and palms... you can stretch a moment out into a large span of ( Read more... )

In a little under seven hours, I am going to be completely finished with high school.

Am I supposed to be excited, or melancholy?