in white paper scenery,
the mind becomes ink
Then floods each pages with your sparkling words
endlessly traverse and explore and ruminate
words containing truth
or imagined fantasy
bitterness or soul decay and even
opulence just for the day
And rawness seeps out
from the silver-jeweled elixir
Call it experience or imagination.
People act strange around death; there are those who talk about everything but the person who died — those who talk only about the person who died — those who try their best to cheer you up — those who can't help but make you cry and then there are those who don't have to say anything — because somehow they don't have to —
It's so easy to put people in boxes; draw lines creating side, there's 'us' and then there's 'them'.
Those that they feel comfortable with and those they don't; there are those with many chapters and those that have just started writing their own; those who have the will to do and those who are only doing what they can.
Those we share something in common with and those we don't seem to know at all but then somehow in all our boxes there's 'us' those who have tattoos, those who have been bullied, those who have bullies others, those who feel lonely, those who are madly in love,we who have overcome tremendous adversity—the lucky ones whose team may have won the championship this year, we with great self-love and some who have beat cancer and finally there's all of us created with great strength and beauty;together we shall stand—
Why be scared of the darkness when it's the light you should be afraid of...that **** leaves you at any given time; afterall we all know what kind of creepy crawlies may lurk dark, but you never know what might staring back at you in the light.
Humans are such emotional beings, we can be in a good happy place in a moment then someone says that one thing that, and that one thing sends you flying back to that place
what does that mean?
were we not happy?
were we not in a perfect place?
then again what **** are perfect places?
It ***** that we miss people like that. You think you’ve accepted that someone is out of your life, that you’ve grieved and it’s over, and then bam. One little thing, and you feel like you’ve lost that person all over again.
I’ve spent most of my life and most of my friendships holding my breath and hoping that when people get close enough they won’t leave, and fearing that it’s a matter of time before they figure me out and go.