phantasmacalico
My best friend loves beer. Not sure why. Maybe to fit in, maybe to calm her down, or maybe she truly loves the taste of it. I hate it. It tastes like acid that I can feel go down my throat and thunk into my stomach, and eventually I can feel it eating away at my liver.
Stories make up your childhood. Stories of fantasies far far away, with princesses and castles and promises of this one day happening to you. So is it the stories that I blame for being upset about where I am today? Or just myself?
That's it, you're done. There's nothing more you can do. Checkmate, mate.
Why do certain people become attracted to certain things? Do we subconsciously choose who or what we're attracted to? Older men, authors, cigarettes, all these things attract me, but I never feel like I choose those things, or do I?
Life is hardly held down by anything close to an anchor. It's not held down at all, but rather lifted. Lifted by your decisions and the people around you.
The dashboard fogged up as our breathing got heavier and our skin got hotter and closer.
The plague came. It took our sight, it took our hearing, our thoughts, our touch, all of our senses. It took out all previous thoughts and memories, wiped them clean. We weren't able to remember what anything was like before this. How are we supposed to act and function after this beautiful plague has left? Love.
It seems that I always get the bronze metal. No matter how hard I try or how much time I put into something, I'm never first. I'm not upset about it, and it's never bothered me. Until you came, and I tried so hard to be the gold metal in your life, but ended up with a small bronze coin congratulating me on my efforts.
"You're destined for greatness" are words that I never want to hear. I feel like I could never take that amount of pressure, as all the heroes do in the famous movies. I don't want to be destined for anything that will affect a bunch of people, I just want to take myself to a place of peace. I want to be destined for my own happiness.
As the waves flow over the sand and smooth the rough edges of the rocks, your lips flow over my body effortlessly, causing all my worries to go away, and all my muscles to relax.
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writing since 2013 · 25 entries · 25 days shown up
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bewaretruthsurecitiesupsetpressuredestinedthoughtsstoriesauburndirectorcontrollingfriendspringflowermaking