Here’s a list, y’all.

Today I was prompted to compile a list, as part of the #everydayinspiration. Now while I am probably the #1 fan when it comes to making ToDo-Lists, (really, I even have an app), I could think of no list that you would actually want to read about (unless, of course, you want to know what I have planned out for the day and I’m pretty you sure you don’t). But then I got thinking and I finally decided on a pretty simple list. But don’t be fooled: you’re still going to love it. Continue reading

Metamorphosis

As an adolescent standing on the line between woman and girl,  I’ve been playing around with the idea of actually growing up. The physical part I get, that comes with time, but the mental part? Does this, too, come with time and when you find yourself again you’re 20 and all grown up? Or is this a conscious change; something you actively go through a process you’re aware of?
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My first poem

The Think and Run

I want to run away.
In the dead of night, I’ll slip outside, and ride a pastel bike down a safe road.
I’ll fall in love
And open a bakery with pink little cakes and regular customers.
I’ll fall some more
And open a store where you buy happy and positive and it’ll cost you nothing at all.

I want to run away.
But in the dead of night, I’ll be thrown from my bike- hurt, and scared, alone.
I’ll fall in love
And it’ll break my heart and I’ll be irreparably broken, and lose the bakery as well.
I’ll fall some more
And walk by stores, whishing for happy and positive, but not affording anything at all.

I want to run away.
Because really all I want, all I’m looking for, is the bitter-sweet taste of adventure.
Life isn’t just about love
And sometimes the mere thought of little pink cakes in the oven.
will make you feel
happy and positive and alive.
You’ll walk by stores and live through wars, but all it costs, is a little bit of thought.

Why do I write?

I find it amusing that as soon as I received this question, I began writing. I didn’t pour over this for hours, because I knew that while I write, the answer would come to me.
And it is coming to me; the mere fact that I didn’t have to pour over it is already part of my answer. Writing comes naturally to me- it might not be so good, but it does nevertheless.

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Thoughts from a Fireplace

I thought long and hard about what the glowing splinters of wood made me feel. Usually it’s the flames that seem vicious but, when examined closely, it’s the glowing embers that clearly poses a threat. Physically, I can feel my cheeks matching the fireplace; they glow.

I wish I had some additional sentimental story to add to  my thoughts from the Fireplace, but the only thought that creeps into my head, along with the first signs of sleepiness, is a line from my favorite poem.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Here’s the whole poem by Dylan Thomas, for those of you who are yet to stumble upon this treasure.

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