They liked each other.
I watched as she gave him a flower and he gave her a hug.
Her face lit up at seeing him.
He stumbled over his words around her.
I watched from afar as she asked him to Sadies and he asked her to Prom.
They danced the night away.
I watched as they held each other, jumping in time to the music.
I watched over the shoulder as the two of them swayed to the slow dance.
They flirted with each other.
I watched as she gave him a hug and he snuck off with her in private.
Then, I saw them get together.
He'd pull her away during lunch. She'd sit next to him in class.
I'd hear about th
I paint my nails carefully, steadily. The bright red I save for this very occasion shines back at me as I focus on each stroke.
I have a method when I paint my nails. One line down the center. One to the left. Then one to the right. Then I put another coat over the whole thing, one long, broad stoke to add depth and fullness to the color.
I re-dip the brush and start on my next nail.
One line down the center.
The strong foundation we will build our relationship on. Two people, one strong line, unbroken, at the heart of our love.
The center of your chest is where my hands rest when I hug you from behind. The middle of the library where I
A toast. To teenage love.
To throwing stones at her bedroom window in the dead of night.
To text messaged sweet nothings that he sent to make her smile in class.
To secret meetings in gas station parking lots where they strolled, hands intertwined.
To sitting on the front lawn of the high school, gazing at the blue sky.
To sharing a pair of headphones so he can smell her hair and she can lean her head on his shoulder.
To the quick hugs in the hallway as they run to class.
To the long hours spent talking online, less than three's covering the screen.
To the promise of forever that drowns the worr
I used to believe that last words were the most powerful.
After all, once they're gone, nothing else comes; it just ends.
But when you think about it
Truly think about it
It's not the final goodbye that matters.
By missing out on those last words, what do I really lose?
I still have the caring "Good morning!"s
where I was too tired to even make sense of it.
I still have the joyous "Hello!"s
from when I returned just from a day at school, like usual.
I still have the caring "Be safe!"s
from when I'm walking down the street as I have a million times before.
I still have the heartfelt blessings that you gave me during holidays.
Until the Day it Becomes a... by TeenTitans4EVER, literature
Literature
Until the Day it Becomes a...
"At the stroke of midnight, the carriage would turn back into a pumpkin "
- - -
"The Ouran Host Club is where the school's handsomest boys with too much time on their hands entertain young ladies who also have way too much time on their hands. Think of it as Ouran Academy's elegant playground for the super rich and beautiful."
This is the spell.
An illusion of a family to keep us all together.
Cast by a fairy godmother of sorts; his goal: simply to have the family he would never have and that none of us shall ever have as well.
"And maybe you're right, keeping things the way they are wouldn't be so bad."
And even though we
I thought I could handle it.
You see, I had this bottle.
It was blue, like the sea.
Like my tears.
Every time something bad would happen,
I put it in the bottle.
I never really thought about what would happen if the bottle got full.
I worried all the time about the bottle filling up.
I also had this mask.
This mask was always smiling.
But never happy.
I wore it everywhere.
I never thought what would happen if the mask broke.
I worried all the time about the mask breaking.
I loved my bottle.
I hated my bottle.
I loved my mask.
I hated my mask.
Then one day
My bottle got full.
I knew it was coming.
A
Dear boy,
You think you are so clever and sneaky. That you can work your way into my heart with your cute smiles and pretty riddles. When you whisper sweet nothings to me in the classroom and cafeteria, and I stop thinking of all my troubles.
Then you assume that you can forget me at the drop of a hat, with a horribly kind smile, and painfully gentle words, you can get away with whatever you want.
You forget, dear boy, that I am much smarter than you think. I may chase after fairy tales, kissing frogs along the way, but I refuse to fall head over heels if it means I can't get back up.
I will admit, you were close, very close, to pulling t
That moment when procrastination turns to inspiration. That time when the sun stops rising and hasn't started falling. The split-second it takes for the minute hand to tick to the next spot.
That place between crushed soda cans and leftover bags of chips. The crayon X marked on a notebook paper map. Those love notes scribbled on Post-it's and stuck on binders. The cozy spaces between the iambic pentameter of Shakespearean sonnets.
The sweetness of hot chocolate in the early morning and Red Bull in the middle of the night. The taste of half-formed wishes mingling with half-eaten lunches. The sharp tang of spices and speculations and everythi
They liked each other.
I watched as she gave him a flower and he gave her a hug.
Her face lit up at seeing him.
He stumbled over his words around her.
I watched from afar as she asked him to Sadies and he asked her to Prom.
They danced the night away.
I watched as they held each other, jumping in time to the music.
I watched over the shoulder as the two of them swayed to the slow dance.
They flirted with each other.
I watched as she gave him a hug and he snuck off with her in private.
Then, I saw them get together.
He'd pull her away during lunch. She'd sit next to him in class.
I'd hear about th
I paint my nails carefully, steadily. The bright red I save for this very occasion shines back at me as I focus on each stroke.
I have a method when I paint my nails. One line down the center. One to the left. Then one to the right. Then I put another coat over the whole thing, one long, broad stoke to add depth and fullness to the color.
I re-dip the brush and start on my next nail.
One line down the center.
The strong foundation we will build our relationship on. Two people, one strong line, unbroken, at the heart of our love.
The center of your chest is where my hands rest when I hug you from behind. The middle of the library where I
A toast. To teenage love.
To throwing stones at her bedroom window in the dead of night.
To text messaged sweet nothings that he sent to make her smile in class.
To secret meetings in gas station parking lots where they strolled, hands intertwined.
To sitting on the front lawn of the high school, gazing at the blue sky.
To sharing a pair of headphones so he can smell her hair and she can lean her head on his shoulder.
To the quick hugs in the hallway as they run to class.
To the long hours spent talking online, less than three's covering the screen.
To the promise of forever that drowns the worr
I used to believe that last words were the most powerful.
After all, once they're gone, nothing else comes; it just ends.
But when you think about it
Truly think about it
It's not the final goodbye that matters.
By missing out on those last words, what do I really lose?
I still have the caring "Good morning!"s
where I was too tired to even make sense of it.
I still have the joyous "Hello!"s
from when I returned just from a day at school, like usual.
I still have the caring "Be safe!"s
from when I'm walking down the street as I have a million times before.
I still have the heartfelt blessings that you gave me during holidays.
Until the Day it Becomes a... by TeenTitans4EVER, literature
Literature
Until the Day it Becomes a...
"At the stroke of midnight, the carriage would turn back into a pumpkin "
- - -
"The Ouran Host Club is where the school's handsomest boys with too much time on their hands entertain young ladies who also have way too much time on their hands. Think of it as Ouran Academy's elegant playground for the super rich and beautiful."
This is the spell.
An illusion of a family to keep us all together.
Cast by a fairy godmother of sorts; his goal: simply to have the family he would never have and that none of us shall ever have as well.
"And maybe you're right, keeping things the way they are wouldn't be so bad."
And even though we
I thought I could handle it.
You see, I had this bottle.
It was blue, like the sea.
Like my tears.
Every time something bad would happen,
I put it in the bottle.
I never really thought about what would happen if the bottle got full.
I worried all the time about the bottle filling up.
I also had this mask.
This mask was always smiling.
But never happy.
I wore it everywhere.
I never thought what would happen if the mask broke.
I worried all the time about the mask breaking.
I loved my bottle.
I hated my bottle.
I loved my mask.
I hated my mask.
Then one day
My bottle got full.
I knew it was coming.
A
Dear boy,
You think you are so clever and sneaky. That you can work your way into my heart with your cute smiles and pretty riddles. When you whisper sweet nothings to me in the classroom and cafeteria, and I stop thinking of all my troubles.
Then you assume that you can forget me at the drop of a hat, with a horribly kind smile, and painfully gentle words, you can get away with whatever you want.
You forget, dear boy, that I am much smarter than you think. I may chase after fairy tales, kissing frogs along the way, but I refuse to fall head over heels if it means I can't get back up.
I will admit, you were close, very close, to pulling t
That moment when procrastination turns to inspiration. That time when the sun stops rising and hasn't started falling. The split-second it takes for the minute hand to tick to the next spot.
That place between crushed soda cans and leftover bags of chips. The crayon X marked on a notebook paper map. Those love notes scribbled on Post-it's and stuck on binders. The cozy spaces between the iambic pentameter of Shakespearean sonnets.
The sweetness of hot chocolate in the early morning and Red Bull in the middle of the night. The taste of half-formed wishes mingling with half-eaten lunches. The sharp tang of spices and speculations and everythi
You asked me how much I love you.
On a scale from one to ten.
I whispered, "Infinity."
Because if I took a brush,
dipped in our love,
and painted a line made of whispered wishes,
and passionate kisses,
and tried to measure how much I love you,
it would stretch to the outer reaches of the universe.
And everyone would see that line,
twisting and curving,
in shades of happy tears and butterfly wings,
and say that someone crazy must have spent all that time painting it.
Or someone in love.
It would cross oceans on the backs of fish,
and cover cities, countries, and continents,
eventually breaching the atmosphere,
to play connect
That moment when procrastination turns to inspiration. That time when the sun stops rising and hasn't started falling. The split-second it takes for the minute hand to tick to the next spot.
That place between crushed soda cans and leftover bags of chips. The crayon X marked on a notebook paper map. Those love notes scribbled on Post-it's and stuck on binders. The cozy spaces between the iambic pentameter of Shakespearean sonnets.
The sweetness of hot chocolate in the early morning and Red Bull in the middle of the night. The taste of half-formed wishes mingling with half-eaten lunches. The sharp tang of spices and speculations and everythi
A monk told Joshu, "I have just entered the monastery. Please teach me."
Joshu asked, "Have you eaten your rice porridge?
The monk replied, "I have eaten."
Joshu said, "Then you had better wash your bowl."
At that moment the monk was enlightened.
:meditation:
Help! I need somebody! Help! Not just anybody!
I need someone, actually anyone, to tell me something I should write about... I have had a mjor writer's block and have been itching to get over it.
So yeah... Any idea, songs, quotations, etc. It's all good. :shrug:
So okay, I got tagged by ~fuwafuwamomo (https://www.deviantart.com/fuwafuwamomo) :D
1. Put these rules.
2. Each tagged person must put 10 things about themselves in their journal.
3. At the end you must choose and tag 10 people and post their icons in the same journal.
4. Go to their pages and send them a note saying you tagged them.
5. No tag - backs
Okay so here's ten things about me that you probably didn't want to know in the first place ;)
1. I may be in love with Zachary Levi (voice of Flynn Rider from Tangled and plays Chuck on the TV show Chuck). :love:
2. I have a blog :D
3. I like drawing henna/mehndi designs on paper, but I don't really draw anything else.
4