Self Known

Sometimes... Words aren't enough. Actions don't do justice. Seeing isn't believing. Other times... Words are fulfilling. Actions are the right thing. Seeing does make me believe. Sometimes... Pictures don't say any words. Hearing it doesn't mean anything. Touching isn't worth the feeling. Other times... Pictures speak thousands of words. Hearing the words do mean something. Touching is worth the feeling it gave you. *** Why do things tend be good sometimes but bad other times? Why can't anything be solid and complete, with no chance of change? I guess the world would be boring, if the odds weren't there. But if the odds weren't there, maybe I would take the risks. Maybe. take the risks || if you think it's worth it thanks for reading this interesting post. <3 xoxo, Rose pinterest instagram bloglovin

{ 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. ...

{ 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...

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...

{ picture source } Sounds rip through my throat that should not be human. I'm tired of being silent and unheard. I'm sick of this. I'm ready for this to end. But still, as my lips move, no one turns their head. Why won't they listen? Why don't they care? Why do they look away? With a growl of frustration, I close my mouth. I am silent again. I am thinking, wondering, questioning. I am mute. And no one can save me. *** I don't know about you, but I'm tired of going unheard. I'm tired of the pain and suffering. I'm tired of wishing, and hoping, and dreaming. My wishes don't come true. My hope won't last for long. My dreams feel like they've been crushed. Will screaming help relieve the pain? Will talking it out help? Will sobbing or kicking or punching or words help? Will anyone care to save me? I'm beginning to think nothing can save me. No one can save me. But myself. who can i sav...