He looked at her. He could see the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Her eyes piercing through his gaze into his soul. The curls in her hair and skin as reflected like the golden sands. He was the never ending rain in the night. While she was the howling wind that drifted the clouds
Category: my thoughts
To write is to bleed. That’s basically my tag line. I remember writing a similar post to the things I will talk about on this one, awhile back, when I was first starting out on my blog. I explained how sometimes we just get “blocked”. As a writer, you would think it would be easy.
Howling upon the moon in search of the dreams of the morrow. Seeing such beauty, filled by its light, reflecting from thy eyes. Ever present though at times it escapes my sight as I search the heavens. Quiet nights and yet through its form it brings me not comfort. Finding warmths embrace upon the fires
Allow me to be honest. It is easy to say that we will be honest but for the most part do we actually mean it? Coming from how the world is slowly being shaped and how our self-love has evolved to an egocentric belief, is is a question we must ask. I usually always speak
So a lady tells me “God bless, Happy Easter” as she was picking up her item. Now before I give my two cents, people know I don’t do holidays, sure I can associate as a respect but I don’t believe any day to be greater than the rest. There is a misconception people have with
Living with OCD, depression and anxiety 101 hehe. People assume your only compulsive nature is to be super clean. It actually comes in spurts for me, most days things are organized others it is my computer files, books and work. Mostly though OCD for me is having compulsive thoughts or images come to my head,
I usually have trouble sleeping at night if I don’t take my pills. This being said, I always find myself writing and in a way, preaching to myself about life. These are just words that help me and hopefully will help someone else as well. Things never turn out exactly how you want it to.
I once thought the alarm would be the reason for my waking. The sun striking my face and the gentle breeze from the ceiling fan brushes against my skin. Yet none of that woke me from the dream that held me in its hold. I could hear it, at first like a sweet melody though
And this is the truth we are afraid to admit: we care. And though I speak as if it was an audience, I speak unto myself first and foremost. We care about the relationships that end. We care about the memories and worry what is to come. We care about not getting that job. We
Silence. I believe this is the word that better describes what I truly longed for. For one who speaks so much it would seem or write it is in those moments I find peace. We have so much to say yet so little that actually means something. Words always have the deepest of meaning when