1. Page 2.

    Page 2.

  2. And then I picked up my pen…

    Suddenly, I’ve been inspired to write again. I don’t know how, but I just picked up my pen and began writing. A real story. A true story. Something that actually happened to me, not something that I hope for. I don’t feel like I need to write it down to make it into a memory. This is already a memory. I’m writing it down so that I can become closer to it. I feel like I am reliving it. It’s such a wonderful memory that I don’t want to let go of. Everything a good story needs—internal conflict, love, characters, humour, excitement, suspense—everything is there. And it all happened. That alone is the reason why I am actually determined to finish this one. That alone is the reason why I feel like I will finish this one. Because no matter how much I write, I know that the story is still being written. I am still living it. And even if I stop writing it down, the story will not end. 

  3. Lord, return to me. 
Zechariah 1:3

    Lord, return to me.
    Zechariah 1:3

  4. Hello again, Internet.

    You know what I really miss about blogging? Just that sense of relief to get out all my thoughts and opinions of whatever is going on in my life and the world. I could come here and just release all my profound thoughts for the world to see. It makes me feel like I’m actually contributing to the Earth’s rotation as it moves through time. It’s not that I really think that my thoughts are really that “profound” or that they’re that significant. I really don’t get a lot of readers. Most of the people who visit my page are just looking at the quotations said/written by other people or looking at the photos that I didn’t even take, but I publish because I like them. No, people don’t really look at what I have to say. But I feel like if I just put them out there, then there are no excuses. People can now see what I have to say. People can look at my thoughts. I’m not hiding anything, except for my identity. There’s secrecy in my openness, which I think is just what I need. It’s just what I want. That’s why I think I’m going to come back to this. Life has been hitting me pretty hard this year, and I think I’d like to share it. 

  5. And then there were 2

    You know, I don’t need to write as much anymore. I never thought that would ever be the case, but things are different, now. I guess I just found the person I was writing to. 

  6. "Maybe loving books is not so simple. Just like a healthy relationship needs work and changes with time, so too does our relationship with the things we own as we try to define ourselves and not be defined by stuff. Simply owning books didn’t make me a reader. What did make me a reader was an insatiable appetite for new stories and the things they have taught me.

    I would not be a better person for owning a library; I become a better person because I chose to read."
  7. littlebookthings:

Submission courtesy of narglesandwrackspurts

    littlebookthings:

    Submission courtesy of narglesandwrackspurts

  8. From the files washed away from the storm

    I can’t help but glancing out the window to make sure the rain is still coming down. I feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen the rain that it will just disappear when I’m not looking. I’ve missed the rain. I miss standing in the middle of a rainstorm and just letting myself get wet. I love the feeling of the cold water gently poking at my face. It feels like it washes away everything that I try to hide, but in a way that makes it even better. My makeup is gone, my hair is natural, even my heart softens and that wall I work so hard to build up around it starts to come down a little. I am so vulnerable, but so much stronger in the rain. I am afraid of nothing. It’s like no one else’s thoughts exist but mine. There is no judgement. There is nothing to fear.

  9. All Is Calm

    Frosted windows and red cheeks. That’s what I want to be seeing right now. I miss the feeling of thawing under a blanket when the heater is still warming up. I miss the necessity of warm soup and hot chocolate. Even apple cider, which I’ve never been a big fan of. I miss sitting in the silence, watching the snow fall, singing Silent Night to yourself. There’s that magical feeling that snow brings every time it falls. It makes everyone just stop. Even in the saddest moment, like saying goodbye. Just as you are about to part ways forever, it begins to snow. Despite the overwhelming feeling of crying right then and there, you can’t help but look up and see the snow falling down, as if in slow motion. You hold onto your coat a little closer, tug onto your gloves for something to hold on to, then look up and see The End. Silent Night starts echoing in your mind as you walk away with the cool wind and the weight of the snow pushing you forward.   

About me

“I wanted movement and not a calm course of existence. I wanted excitement and danger and the chance to sacrifice myself for my love. I felt in myself a superabundance of energy which found no outlet in our quiet life.”