Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Your life is a book and you should live it page by page. You shouldn't skip ahead and read the ending. You are the author and you decide what happens. Don't let anyone else tell you how to write it. Don't put down the pen and end it just because someone else doesn't like it. Fill your story with romance and heartbreak, adventure and mystery. Fill it with evil villains and trusty sidekicks. But you are the hero of your own story. You don't realize what an amazing impact you have on people. You save people's lives everyday. People love you and you don't realize it. The story could end one day and everyone would be devastated. The character that changed their lives would be gone, forever. Don't let that hero die. Never put down the pen no matter what happens, because believe it or not people love you and your story and they don't want to see either come to an end.

Anywhere in time and space, where do you wanna start.
Saving people, hunting things, the family business.
High functioning Sociopath.
You're a wizard Harry.
Divergents must die.
New Directions won nationals.
This is what happens in fandoms.


The feels
The crying
The laughing
The dying
The OTPs
The NOTPs
The romance
The bromance
This is what happens in fandoms.

The Tardis
The Impala
The scarf
The trench coats
The wands
The factions
The singing
The dancing
This is what happens in fandoms.

Your OTPs aren't safe.
No one is safe.
Don't try to run.
Don't try to hide.
Once you are in
There is no getting out.
Save yourself.
Save your sanity.
This is what happens in fandoms.

As I walk through the red and orange forest I can hear the Autumn leaves crunching under my feet. I inhale the fresh air as I find a nice log to sit upon. I stop, look around. It's nice here. Quiet. This is where I belong. I come out here to get away from it all. When the city has awoken and everything becomes crazy, I leave. I come out here. No chaos, no pollution. It's perfect here. Mellow and peaceful. The only sounds I hear are the birds chirping as they soar through the sky and the scurrying of all the small creatures as they move along the forest floor. Sometimes I want to bring people along with me when I come but that would ruin the quiet. I want to tell others about this place but if I did they would all come and it would be like I never even left the city. I come alone. I'm always alone here. I'm all alone except for the animals that roam freely around me. I don't bother them and they don't bother me. It's an agreement we've had since I started coming. Bees buzz loudly around me as I sit upon my log and think. And as I think I wonder about my life and what I could be doing differently. I think about the loved ones that I've lost. I think about things that are pointless and meaningless. I just think. Once I start I have a hard time stopping myself. I eventually have to snap out of it and bring myself back to reality. When the sun starts to set I know it's time for me to leave. I stand up from my log and start walking. Back to the city is where I must go. As I leave I tell all the animals goodbye and that I'll see them next time. As I leave the red and orange forest I can hear the Autumn leaves crunching under my feet. I exhale the fresh air and inhale the polluted air. Goodbye, thinking place. Goodbye.

I told her, "Momma I don't like boys, I'm sorry."
I told him, " Daddy I don't like boys, I'm sorry."
I told them, "Grandma, Grandpa I don't like boys, I'm sorry."

They never said it was okay or that I was accepted.

I told my friends, "Guys, I don't like boys."

They said they still loved me for me & they accept me.

Sometimes you have really good friends. Sometimes your friends are family.