my parents at 20...

It's kind of funny to picture our parents young.  To us, they've always been adults. Always knowing the right things to say when you're sad, or hurt. My dad, he was the first to the first aid kit when I crashed my bike that one summer. He's been the one who's given me life advice on the way to my hockey practices. He's always been the cool parent, the one all my friends come over to talk to. My mom, well she was always beautiful. The kind of beautiful that lights up an entire room. She was the one who went with me to pick out clothes for school and bought me my first Hilary Duff cd. She was kind, and funny beyond belief. She was the kind of person I always aspired to be like. I'd imagine if she was still here, I would have learned so much more from her.  But it's strange, picturing my dad sharing an apartment with his roommates, playing baseball on Friday nights, drinking beer until the room spins and going on road trips across the states with his

hidden identities

We all have covers. Hidden identities. Things about us that no one knows. But if you really think about it, behind every single instagram picture is a real person. Someone who wants to be loved and accepted. Someone who's haunted by their awful drivers liscence picture and student ID photos. We all put out the best versions of ourselves. The versions we want people to see. The pieces of us we want people to know. We throw them out into the digital universe in hopes that someone out there might put the puzzle together, a puzzle that is completely fabricated. Because no one really knows me, and no one really knows you. No one knows that you fight with your parents everyday, no one knows that you're drowning as you post a smiling picture. And most of all, no one knows how lonely you are in every single way you can be lonely. Trust me, I'm not saying that we should all spill everyounce of our thoughts at every moment. I of all people have found myself to like the mystery of p


and then the lightning came and she changed her ways. same colours, same dreams but no longer afraid. some things you can only learn in a storm. - M

You & Me

You You are every novel ever written. You are not limited to a page, or a chapter. You are the entire book. You are every character, every sentence, every story line. You are stitched together with a beginning, a middle and an end. In the beginning, you are this wild daydreamer who is curious about the world. In the middle, you find someone who loves you the way you’ve always wanted to be. The one you’ve always subconsciously known to be near you in some way. In the end, you realize that you’re still growing, and you always will be growing. You are a rose. You do need to be watered from time to time. Let people water you. But only people you care about. You are a dandelion, you make wishes come true. My wishes, her wishes, his wishes. You’re the only you, and you can do anything you want. You just have to want it bad enough. You are a stunning, capable person. You need to be told that more often. I will tell you. You. You. You. It’s always been you. You are kind


fake happiness  is the worst sadness let yourself feel let yourself hurt, heal  and one day the sun will seem noticebly brighter


he thinks that drinking and inhaling poison will make him w h o l e but really, it just made me l e a v e

you made a mess of things

you know what's messed up? people. they are so weird. they're so afraid of messing things up that they wait around hoping that you might tell them something that they want to hear. but honestly, you have no freaking idea what they want to hear!!!! because you don't really know who they are. they're so afraid of messing things up so they don't tell you what they really want. then you just stop talking, and guess what they messed you up they messed themselves up and the worst of it... they did this all while being afraid to mess up -and that's really messed up