Self Known

[  click here to read part one  ] I look up him, his beautiful dark brown eyes meeting mine. I'm at a loss for words. Even the pen that weighed heavily behind my ear has become light, all of its own words forgotten. A blush rushes across our cheeks, and we simultaneously look down at our food. My forgotten notebook slips from under my arm and spills onto the floor, breaking the moment. We both reach for it, but I stop when I see the page it fell open on. New beginnings, old friends, I didn't want to leave you, but I did. He kneels down, retrieving the notebook. I watch his eyes scan the words for a brief second, before he snaps the it shut. "Sorry, um..." He holds it out for me to take. And I do. "Those are some beautiful words, by the way." "Thank you..." I run my fingers across the worn cover of the book, trying to find the right words to tell him how those words came to be. He nods and stands up to sit back down in his

[ photo via pinterest ] Breathing. I'll focus on that. In... Out... My lungs seem to enjoy the air. Taking it in before exhaling it out. In... Out... I like breathing. Breathing is good. In... ...out. Why are my hand shaking? Why is my face...leaking? In... In... In... Breathing isn't the thing I can focus on anymore. I need to focus on something else. In... Out--in... Out... Somehow, I do manage to breathe. dramatic, much? || in...out...in...out... thanks for reading. <3 xx Nicole Rose

[ photo via pinterest ] Strumming. Writing. Humming. Singing. My fingers pluck and pick the notes. My lungs exhales the words. My foot taps to the beat. My smile turns into a frown. "Don't stop." I look up. He's here. Why? "But it doesn't sound right." My voice sounds hoarse. He always does this to me. How? "It sounded right to me." He sits beside me. Our eyes meet. Whoa... "Just sing from your heart." He closes the notebook. I shake my head. No. "Just let the notes come to you," "As the words follow." So... I do. Strumming. Singing. Smiling. Giggling. The notes came, a nd the words did follow. We harmonize with each other. Him and I. Together. As one. xx Nicole Rose

[ photo via google ] Welp...you've probably already heard--because I'm SO far behind--that Google Reader is gonna POOF, disappear on July 1st . My reaction: woo hoo. -_- I'm sure it'll be for the better. I'll just have to remember that bloglovin' is the place to be... And that it actually exists... Still working on that part. Anyways, if you're like me you probably follow a lot of blogs, right? And who has the time--or the patience--to go to each of their favorite blogs and follow them on Bloglovin'? Well my dear friends, I have found the solution! You see, this lovely blog , led me to this link , which shows you how to move your Google Reader feed, to Bloglovin'. It's super duper simple. All you have to do is click a few buttons and wait ten seconds! Then BOOM your done! It's like magic... O-O <-- that's my, "I like magic" face. :] Well...that's all the randomness I have for now! Stay beautiful my

I pick up my tray of food, glancing around. I'm new and old. I've been but that's gone. I adjust my notebook under my arm, feeling the light weight of the pen that rests behind me ear. It gets heavier by the second, being weighted down with new feelings and thoughts, phrases and words. I scan the room, breathless, thinking about the words my pen could posses when someone taps my shoulder, and my head whips to the side. He gives me a small, crooked grin. I remember you , I think. "Want to sit with me?" Before the word 'no' can roll off my tongue he counters, "It doesn't look like there's any other place to sit, anyway." I look around. All chairs filled, no empty space. I'll have to write that down when he isn't looking. I sigh inwardly, giving in to him. "Sure, I'll sit with you." He leads me to the table in the corner, where the small table for two snugly fits. His pulls his stuff off of it, settin

The open road that lies before me, worn and weather-torn. It stretches long and wide, forever going, never stopping, until it meets the sun where it sets. It must take patience to travel upon it, to walk through the rain, and snow, and sleet, and wind. It must be much harder to follow it, when there are straighter, easier, smoother, roads --such as highways-- to take instead. There is always another path , another road, another way. You just have to find the right one. where do these roads take you? || what's up with all these 'paths' and 'roads'? thanks for reading. <3 xoxo, Rose pinterest instagram bloglovin p.s. you guys are so sweet. <3 you leave the sweetest comments ever...

{ photo via pinterest } "What is it?" She whispers into the moonlit darkness. She holds the tiny flower in her hand, studying its petals. "It's the key." "The key?" He nods, his mysterious, dark brown eyes searching the girl. He studies her, listening to their breaths bounce off the close brick wall beside them. She looks up at him, and in the moonlight, her eyes glow. A bright lantern in the dark. "To what?" "To us." His fingers drift through her hair, the same color as the moon above them. "And how this will all work out." "...you're leaving me. Aren't you?" "For now." He whispers. "Because they're coming." Her eyes squeeze shut. "Don't leave me. Please, please, please don't leave me." "I'm sorry...hey, open your eyes." Her eyelids shoot open and she grabs his arm. &quo

{ photo via pinterest } "No." she states, huffing and crossing her arms. "I am not going outside. I am not being social. And I am not being happy. I'm. Staying. Here." He sighs and rolls his eyes, trying his best to ignore her attitude. "Fine, suit yourself." He picks her up by the waist and drapes her over his shoulder, ignoring her screams of protest. "Put me down! Right now!" "No. Because you are going outside. You are going to be happy and social. Because I am not wasting my money just because you have the birthday blues." She scowls, puffing  up her cheeks and slowly blowing the air out. He stumbles through the front door, carrying her down the little path that leads toward the driveway. But he doesn't turn toward the car. Instead, he turns down the small alleyway between the two, older-style houses. "Hey, where are we going?" "We're going somewhere special." He fin

{ photo via pinterest } It can be physical. Or mental. It can be on the outside. Or the inside. It brings tears to my eyes. It delivers panic to my body. It draws screams to my throat. And it transports wishes to my head. "I wish it would go." "I wish it would leave." "I wish it wasn't there." "I wish there was something I could do about this." It hurts. It burns. It stings. It aches. And there is nothing I can do about it. why does the pain stay? || who--what brought this on? thanks for reading. <3 xoxo, Rose pinterest instagram bloglovin p.s. sunburn hurts. XP

You see it in the eyes of a mother, As she watches her toddler waddle around the room. You see it in the tossed gestures of the old man, Who comes to the park everyday to feed the birds, just as his wife used to. You see it in the smile of the boy, Who lets the girl ride piggy back on him. You see it in the giggles of the girl, When he threatens to drop her. Don't refrain, show it. If you have it, share it. The world needs [more] love. It doesn't have to be romantic. It just has to show you care. do you care? || show it, if you mean it. thank you for reading. <3 xoxo, Rose pinterest instagram bloglovin

Another path, Another road. A place to go, Or leave, with bags in tow. What will I find, On my long quest? People? Friends? Love? A test? My feet drag, My shoulders hunch, My head pounds, My bones crunch. It's been too long, But I cannot rest. I am so close. I've made progress. My seems as if, It will never end. I wish it would--I wish it wouldn't. I should stop so I may amend. I stop. I breathe. I fall. I fail. choose your paths wisely || don't give up, you're so close thanks for reading this interesting post. <3 xx Nicole Rose

Click, clack, click. My fingers fly. My mind races. Words play back as images. Click, clack, ding. More words added. More images formed. Small smiles become visible. Click, clack, click. "He said this..." "She did that..." Drama enters the story. Click, clack, ding. The climax has risen. The ending has been decided. I wonder what they will think. Print, seal, tape. My fingers are crossed. The deed has been done. My fate as an author rests in their hands. ~ ~ ~ So recently, I've been typing up a storm on my little laptop. Now that school and dance are over, I finally have time to sit down, relax, and write--reading squeezes in there too. I have been working this story I hope to get published for six months. The "anniversary" is today. :) I am so happy--and proud--to be able to say I have over 80,000 words typed out for this book. I am so excited to have my first draft almost done, but I can

|| this post was inspired by this picture. || { picture source  } "Has it arrived yet?" She asks, wrapping the shawl tighter around her shoulders. Hope is written all over her face and she bites her lip, wishing for one words. Just one. "No," The old lady at the desk replies. It hurts her every time to say that. "But this came in." She hands the letter to the younger girl, sighing as she watches the hope drain from her eyes. "Thank you." She whispers. Then the girl turns and leaves. This happens again, and again. Every morning the girl comes, asking if it has arrived. And every morning, the old women replies with a no, and another bill to add to the girl's troubles. But one morning, when the girl walks into the post office, the old woman is not there. A younger girl sits in the old ladies spot, shifting through a stack of letters. Hellos are exchanged, and the girl asks what happened to the old lady. "She died." Th

I grasp the teacup in my hand, Glancing toward my words, And the pictures that move behind them. I nibble one of the cookies I stole, Revising, rewriting, and relaxing. Oh, how I've missed this. relaxation & words || what more could i need? thank you for reading this short post. <3 xx Nicole Rose