Self Known

Who's ready for part two?! I am so happy to have received the feedback I did for part one. Thank you so much to those who commented and suffered through that post sending out like 8 times. -.- You make my day. <3 Alright, let's get on with it, shall we? Last time we saw Sienna she was being mummified by vines. Let's see if she can figure out what's going on and get herself out of this mess... - - - They dragged her along, the three of them chattering in warbled voices. She strived to understand, to grasp at information that would give her the knowledge she’d need to navigate the situation. But for the most part, it sounded like birds chirping together in an intense commutative soprano. She tried not to panic. Because the more she did, the more moss she snuffed up her nose. Eventually, the tweeting stopped and the air around her stiffened. They stopped dragging her along the ground, and the few moments of silence that followed were deafening. Th...

On the Saturday before Christmas, I went to the mall with my sister to meet some fellow 5SOS fans (WHOOT WHOOT). I'm going to be bluntly honest and I say it was the worst idea ever. I'll spare you the details of our downhill spiral, because that's not what this post is about. This post is about a conversation I had with one of the girls. Her name (for privacy purposes we'll say) was Allison and she was 13 years old. She was short and round and absolutely adorable. She didn't say much, and at first I thought maybe she doesn't like strangers - or perhaps she didn't like anyone at all. But we ended up in the back of the group, kind of trailing behind the other girls and listening to them talk about Micheal Clifford's hair and converse with strangers as they passed out flyers for the new LIVESOS album. I made a comment about being left behind which broke the ice. I connected with this girl in the most magnificent of ways. Why? Because of what she said....

Sometimes, I have so much to say but my mind doesn't know how to get it all out. So I express it through actions. The way I move my hand, skip around, or even breathe... I am always writing a new version of the same story. My story. Maybe I don't have the right words (yet), but the story is there. The story is waiting. You just have to look for it.