brighteyes25

She once told me a story about death. Death, she said, was a quiet creature. A creature that lurked in the night, behind shadows and under beds, praying on the weak and ill-minded until their poisons or pills or ropes brought them home. Or sometimes, death was a loud creature. A creature that feasted on car crashes, sinking ships, and metal boxes falling from the sky. Always feasting on the noise that mortals made as their last breath escaped. She told me that death could be anything. Death could be the flower you’ve been growing in your kitchen, your next door neighbor with the fascinating display of hatchets in his living room, or

you judge us for taking selfies you judge us for the social media take over that you think is our lives. you base our intelligence on if we use correct grammar and spelling in a tweet, even when God knows we couldn’t fit it all into 140 characters. you call our generation vain, and self-centered because it’s different. because we have the power to look back in years and have memories available at our fingertips. when we’re fifty years old and one day we remember our Facebook password, we can look back and see what we were thinking sitting in math class when we were sixteen. we can scroll through the thousands of pict

ink covers your hands in ways that i adore the dimple between your eyes that forms when words don’t work you’re oblivious to the world time has no meaning when it melts away into far away lands and castles the wisp of spring in the air is lost on you until you emerge again coffee stains on the newspaper sat forgotten the busy street outside is just noise pollution worlds swirl inside your head and claw at your brain to escape endless nights and sleep ridden days it’s hard to fall for a knight of words but it makes it all worth it when you smile

i will never know your name. i will never know your story. i will only know your mother's screams. and your father's fury. i hope that you find peace, in the world beyond this one. i hope your act was just, and that you feel you've won. tales like this always end in tears. a plot twist never changing. a caged bird finally taking flight, from a life no longer worth living.

Dear Friend, Life is weird, huh? I'm at that point where I have to start making decisions, that are going to affect my future. And that can be really scary, sometimes. But, it's nice to know that I'm not alone. And some days, it's hard to look past all of that.  I just try to take a breath, and move on. Focus on what I know I want to get out of life. Like,  I want to be able to smile. I want to be able to look back in twenty years, and feel like I didn't waste a day. I want to be not afraid to take chances, and try something new, even if it scares me. I want to be able to laugh. Feel good about myself, and others. Accept people for who they

when the shadows fall and the stardust touches my lips promise that you'll remember me when the salt water runs through my veins and the sand fills every crevice of my soul promise that you won't forget me when the light becomes too bright and I finally fly away promise that you'll follow

"You were at the hospital," I said, brushing my thumb over his beautiful mouth. "Daniel said you didn't leave." Noah opened his eyes but avoided mine. "I managed to see you, once." "Really?" He gave a short nod. "You were unconscious. You were - they had you in restraints." He said nothing for what seemed like a very long time... --- You know those moments that stretch on forever, and it feels like time just stops? I've had too many of those moments in my lifetime. I felt like I was going to die on that plane. I was going to die, listening to the terror in Mara's voice, playing over and over again in my head. I promised her, god-dammit.

a self portrait a passion desire to be and live and see that fueled her every dream her life was simple in the big picture living on the outskirts of time a brain desperate to fit in a soul desperate to stand out her world was filled with words books scattered her floor but her parents never minded her thirst for knowledge of life was given by them the passion they encouraged she thanked God for them but the desire it grew with her, never ceasing to walk along the Seine travel the world see it all with certain people in tow that she loved a feeling of hope holding tight to what she had desperate not to loose it or let it f