YOLO| Actress for life<3| love theater, love poetry, love thinking| bit of a hippie| dream. laugh. smoke. whatever....just be|
I cleaned my room a couple days ago I never do. I'm too tired. Now it's messier than it was before. Isn't it always. You try to fix something and it just bites you in the ass in the end.
Since when did lighting our lungs on fire and vomiting up our youth become fun. When did cigarettes and sex become a carnal desire and weed and cocaine a symbol of pure lust.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if my fantasies came true and we were together. I wonder how we would spend our days. I’d wake up in the morning to see your face on the pillow next to me.
The best thing about life is not living. Nor loving. It’s forgetting. Forgetting the sadness and the pain and everything in the world that has ever left a scar on your soul. And for awhile.
Maybe I'm a cat With 9 lives Cutting off number 8 I could have gone so much sooner But luck has spared me Although I'm not exactly sure if that is good or bad.
I'm beating myself up today with regret. I woke up suddenly realizing that I never noticed. In the moments I had and the time I spent with her. I never noticed her shirt.
Tomorrow is another day, Yet today is still so long Perhaps I'll sacrifice and pray Or write another song But songs and poems make no difference To whether the earth stay blue or green The challenge...
i am on a ship sailing far away to a place completely different of where we are today where nothing is forbidden or taken advantage where you and i are we and there's nothing that stops the flying...
Why they ask. why. out of all things. why. does it really hell you. do you realize what you're doing. who you're hurting. what you're holding. why. why. why. do you think if i knew.
I love how your smile lights up the whole room. and how your voice gets chipper in excitement. I love the way your walk jumps when your in a good mood.
I hate how I can remember every little detail. That makes me obsessive doesn't it. That's one thing I don't understand about our society; we're always trying to be normal.
Most of the time I feel I was not meant to be human. Humans are definite; there's a word for them. I don't think there'a word for me. I don't think I'm describable or said.
And I find myself seeing everything pertaining to her. The sunset on seagreen waves reflects off the sand like her creamy white skin and ice warm eyes.
i am most free when i let my mind wander i dont know exactly but if my soul were an instrument id be a guitar and i pray that someone would mend my brittle strings and play my hollow body.