You are worth it.

18195141_10209428602138775_8216928352892482649_nYou make a difference every day.

Every smile.

Every ‘are you okay’?

Every piece of art.

It makes a difference.

And don’t let anyone tell you different. Who you are is a hero to someone. You lead your story, and you can control that story. Who you are is special, strong, creative and great. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Family members don’t know you better than you know you. Lies don’t get to tell you your worth. Your friends don’t get to decide your worth for you and neither do strangers on the subway. Continue reading

Lights

fcb7651cef295f22606766ced9ab6784It was almost 10:30. I’d been driving for hours, 13 hours go be exact, when the sky started to sparkle. One after another sparks of color shot into the sky and exploded in a puff of glittering light. I was enamored.

I watched the fireworks, eyes drifting from the road. They were so… random. It was the beginning of march, no date the world was celebrating. No reason to use such an extravagant form of celebration.

I watched them in the distance sparkle, shout, and explode. I had to reach them soon, right? I was driving towards them. They had to come from somewhere.

Continue reading

The Key

14856129_10207637245115969_4982728063728620631_oThe first thing she ever said to me was a lie. Lying was her oxygen. It’s how she survived every day. It’s how she took breath and ate her food and walked down the street and drove her car. It’s the only thing that made her feel safe. Putting up a wall the rest of the world couldn’t climb. Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Lying. I understood, I guess. But I needed to know who she really was. I needed to get inside that head of hers. I needed to be a part of her life. But she didn’t have people in her life. She had passing faces and passing names that she probably won’t remember in two days time. But I needed to be there. So I came up with a plan. I wanted to know who she really was. I wanted to know what was the real face behind that mask. I wanted to know if she was even wearing a mask. I want to know why she was running and what or whom she was running from.   Continue reading

Flower Me Angry

15941107_10208257309377188_4801604402307860374_nI really love succulents.

I was never a big “flower person”. I’m still not. I love nature and I love flowers and greenery and gardens but I don’t know a lot about them. I don’t know the different flowers or what type thrives and which climate. For the longest time I didn’t even have an answer to the question “what’s your favorite flower?” Because the only flowers I could think of were roses and daisies and those weren’t my favorites.

But I’ve finally found my answer to that question and that’s succulents.

I always thought that your favorite flower was a good way to know the kind of person you are. Continue reading

Graffiti

heart“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” was the mantra he heard day and night. The words were whispered against his ear, shouted from the roof, scratched into his skin by the people who were supposed to love him.

“Weak,” the insult is spat his way after he once again let tears slip out of his deep, hot eyes.

“Control yourself,” he whispered, pulling the blanket over his chest and turning on to his side.

His phone started singing promptly at three am that night. He slapped the ‘off’ button and pushed the blanket to the floor, exposing his sweating legs to the cool, sharp air. He tugs on his dirty pair of jeans and a large sweatshirt before fishing the worn bag out from under his bed. Continue reading

HERS.

14352270_951674774956083_3263135980559809627_oTherapy. Doctors. Endless conversations. Even a hypnotist once.

“You’re in shock.” “You’ve experienced great tragedy and loss.” “Trauma plagues you every day.” “You need help.” “What you’ve experienced follows you every day.” “You’re demons will never leave you.” “Broken, you’re broken.”

Broken. Broken. Broken.

I don’t remember what it’s like to have a normal beating heart. Most people don’t think about it. The way your heart thumps in your chest. Most normal people don’t realize every pump of blood being surged through your body. Continue reading

his.

14324224_951674698289424_6069276409962481787_oIt was a Friday. Which Friday doesn’t matter. Any Friday. All Fridays. Every Friday.

Every day.

Pounding. That’s what I remember before anything else. The pounding in my head. It was like all my memories, all my desires, all my relationships I had stored away, were thrashing around in my head, fighting to get free.

I needed someone to talk them down.

I need peace. Continue reading

Summer Days

picsLight filters through the open windows.

The windows wrap around the entire house and there are no trees around, so the obstacles to stop the light from shining inside are very few.

There are some curtains, but they are very thin and do little good in the peak of the day, when the sun is the happiest and it’s light is the brightest.

So the light gleams. When the windows are closed, the light breaks the barrier and shines none-the-less. When the windows are open, the lights take an advantage and bring the heat with them. Continue reading

My Mighty Leopard.

13301372_10209858882252789_1657476168247963656_oHer voice purred, lingering in my ears more than the loudest song. She blinked, eyelashes painting her cheek in a swift motion. I watched her skin pull against her muscles, screaming strength and scaring away cowardice. She walked with grace, feet constantly balanced, aware of the world around her.

You’re unsure if you should approach, her beauty intimating you into surrender. Your body screams at you to reach out, touch her, feel her soft coat under your fingertips. You hold your hand back, clenching it into a fist to stifle the desire. She bares her teeth and you take a step back. She dares you to come closer, enter her space, become one in her world. Try it. Try to tame her.

I dare you.

She is pure, clean, and fierce, a beautiful contradiction. A being of opposites. A creature of habit afraid of change. She is gentle, strong, cautious and brave. Her soft purr is louder than the most powerful roar.

She watches me, making me want to stand up straight and follow her into a den of danger. I would give her my life. Allow her to move me forward. Close my eyes. Blindly follow. She smiles, glistening teeth brighter than stars. Magnificent beauty that I can’t seem to wrap into words.

 

Chauffeur.

picsCorn. Wheat? Not cotton. Dead grass probably. Max groans and leans back, dropping her head on the back of the seat. Her eyes slide closed and she pictures the car moving forward, pushing air off its track, pulling the dead grass along with it, causing dust and pebbles to jump under the tires. Mason sits next to her, having taken the long drive as an opportunity for a nap. His heavy breathing mixes with the sound of the tires on asphalt. Max closes her eyes tighter, wanting the playlist in the air around her to turn off. She wishes there was a pause button. Or a skip.

Finally, she sits up and unzips the pre-packed backpack. She digs through it in search for headphones and unsurprisingly, finds nothing. Headphones are a distraction. They compromise your hearing, therefore making you unprepared for an attack. Max rolls her eyes and sits back, tucking her legs under her. She taps on the window in a random beat, biting on the inside of her cheek. Continue reading