Aug 24 / Female
Joined on Mar 1, 2012
Last login on May 19, 2013
1406 karma pts
“he looks likes death; he smells of sugar. he is the reason for the beginning and the end.”
“Maybe there's a way out of the cage where you live.
Maybe one of these days, you can let the light in.
Show me how big your brave is.”
He sees the yellow line of faded lead marks, scratched and scrawled, barely eligible, barely put together. Sometimes, there are things not everyone is sure of, but he knows this, he knows it well.
The words that left holes, the empty air, stale with dust, old with memories. He catches her shadow and maybe it is love—the words prove otherwise.
They’re letters, he figures, not to him or from her. Not from him, not to her. That was simple, that was easy to figure. They weren’t real after all.
The sun sets and he eases his way up the gravel stone. He turns, sunset against his chest, silhouettes his figure, illuminating his face. “Today,” he asks to the empty air.
“Today,” she confirms, back to the setting sun.
He scoffs at the empty air, she snickers to herself. “You sure,” his voice is accented; it sounds like waves, crashes like none other.
“I'm sure.” Her hair falls into waves, twirling and swirling.
He moves closer, she backs away. The sun has set.
“Let’s disappear.” The moon shines, the stars twinkle, the air is still empty and the sun has set. Lovely.
just let me sleep in peace
I'm strong--that may sound conceited, and that's fine. I am a bit (maybe more than a bit) conceited. I've went through several stages of depression and self-loathing, and I just don't ever want to go back there again. If being conceited and loving myself a bit too much is what it takes to keep me away from that vicious cycle, then so be it. I don't care about the stares or the whispers, no, that isn't as painful as the feeling of hatred for my body, for everything that made me me.
I'm careless--that's the truth. There is no excuse for my thoughtlessness other than I don't really see when enough's enough. I'm still a child, this is what this period of time is for. For growing and learning and observing.
I'm a writer--whether I'm a good author or not, you can decide. I mostly write Infinite, I ship all the slash and if it's Infinite and has been slashed, trust me, I've already shipped it. There's nothing to it, I enjoy what I do and other people see potential. I write for myself, again with the conceited vibes, but whatver, it's the truth. I write for fun, not for the heck of it, I write to say I've written and enjoyed doing it, not just for writing to fill empty words. That's just things and things work out by themselves, you know?
I'm an Inspirit--I don't even know why I stan this group. They are just so precious, their music is something I like, and their stage personality is so easy to love. I honestly just like the way they are, and if it isn't them, well that's their problem. They've got me hooked on their image, though I still see L as Myungsoo and Sungjong as someone who's manly--so sue me if this isn't their official image. Myungsoo will always be a clingy koala bear with a camera and A Quiet Concept.
I love Sara Bareilles--sue me. I don't care. She is the goddess, she is amazing, she is my role model, she is my inspiration, she is eargasmatic, she is beautiful, she is lyricful, she is amazing, she is skilled. Her lyrics all mean something, her concepts are different, she isn't quite underrated but by no means exploited. She makes her own music, records her own music, preforms her own music. She believes in herself and she is so strong. She is who I aspire to be, her voice is golden, and she's more than perfect to me--she's imperfect and human and beautiful. Some girls, not all, can learn a few things from her. It's okay if you want to alter yourself and be comfortable when looking in the mirror, because at the end of the day, no one's love is going to matter besides your own, because when you're dead, you're the only one who can say, I love you.
Why so scared that you’ll mess it up? When perfection keeps you haunted.
All we need is your best my love, that’s all anyone ever wanted.
^ Back to Top