Is This Who I Am?“Just wait in the car,” he said with a smile and a wink and, “I won’t be long, just a minute or two.”Is This Who I Am?
Liar.
We sang while he was gone – my sister was Mindy McCready
and I was Shania Twain, daddy’s little country girls –
but I always noticed the way he lingered there, head bent just so in the darkened doorway that wasn’t ours.
Liar.
We meet her eventually, but the divorce is too new for my sister and so she rides with dad while I go with the new lady, who treats m
Comfortably Serious“—nice, I mean, like a girl. I mean, ah… sophisticated. It’s a new look for you.”Comfortably Serious
Lynn lifted her head, blinking once over her shoulder toward Cal. She wondered if her skepticism was as prevalent on her features as it was within her thoughts as she shook her head toward him. Looking away, she shrugged out of the fitted turquoise top after unbuttoning it, hanging it on her hook easily enough. Snatching up a worn white and red tank top, she slipped it overhead, settling it over the black swim suit that fit easily over her slim build. After replacing her formal black pants with a baggy pair of red sweatpants
As Dreams, WeStart so small, like bubbles born on air from a child's mouth. And we grow, as a seed, sprouting, growing larger and larger, defined by our environment, the surroundings and lives that touch the one that one of us was born within. But mostly it is this one, this mind that gave life to one of us many dreams, that carves us into something more, something real.As Dreams, We
But we need room to grow as we would and sometimes
sometimes that room is taken as ideas, desires, incidents, failures, life, and even other dreams come into play. The
Expressions of HopeTo explain an idea born on the wind, he paints knowing that only a few might try to understand, to see, to feel what it is he tries to express.Expressions of Hope
To rid herself of the voices that echo within her mind, she writes a story that no one might read but to her, to express is enough.
For the sound of a brush against the canvas, soft against course, he paints something he fears to express.
For the feel of the paper beneath her hands and pen within her fingertips, she expresses ideas that scare even herself.
Again
Devious Journal Entry
Pain
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[link] <--- Illustrated map of Sapience - updated regularly
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Pffft you're just jealous 'cause the voices are talking to me!
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"Anyway, if you stop tellin' people it's all sorted out after they're dead, they might try sorting it all out while they're alive."
-Terry Pratchett/Neil Gaiman, Good Omens
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Too clever is dumb
I miss you!!!!!!
I miss everyone ><
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I wish I were an Oscar Meyer Wiener....
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I wish I were an Oscar Meyer Wiener....
Mine's Yurushi no Ame these days
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