They were a strange group, lost between the folds of thrashing seas and love stories and mascara. There was an eerily mature girl, struggling through an uphill battle, but filled with the laughter of a child; an invisible celebrity who wanted nothing but people, all around her, all the time; a girl with dry humour but caught up in her own blatant ordinariness; a girl obsessed with being anybody else, who insisted she was nobody bu herself; and boys, all boys. Boys that were like the dark side of the moon, like burning suns trapped behind a wall of the pressing shyness of every girl on the wrong side, who lived in a constant new moon and longed to see the light. It all flowed perfectly, almost too perfectly, like a dream, like a story, and they were all trapped inside, like flowers trapped and pressed between the pages of a book.
[Feel Good Drag--Anberlin]
Sometimes it feels surreal. Like there's so many moods, ever shifting, inside my head, and I can only grasp certain things at a time, and there are never words to describe anything at all. It's...faint.
Hah. Fun word decision.
I love words. Eloquent words. Long words. Short words. Abrupt, harsh, painful words. Dream words. Soft, enticing words. Words that make you feel something changing, deep within your soul. Words that caress you, leave you stunned, leave you exhausted by the sheer weight they possess.
So you can't call me material.