She wore gauzy clothes that drifted with the wind, in pale shades of iris and indigo, lace dripping off the ends and dancing in the shadows of the creases. In the top drawer of her antique dresser she kept a tiny glass box filled with silver glitter, and she would throw it in the air and dance under it before she left her room. It was the magic that would weave a shell around her, weave a shell that would protect her from the real world.
To her, the real world was everything dark and dirty and scary. The vibrations of her parents shouting, the cold, empty feeling when somebody stopped holding her hand. It was the awkward stares that twisted people's insides, it was the crude jokes of class clowns.
The only place she felt safe was in the water. The ocean was her favorite place in the world, and she felt far more composed floating there than walking on land. When she was above the sand, above the shells, above all that was hard and concrete, she knew life would be okay. In the comfortable rush of the waves, she knew she was born a mermaid, cast ashore and given heavy weights for legs because of some unthinkable sins of a past life.
Please forgive me, she would cry to the sea, Please let me return.
But the ocean's angels only turned their scaled tails away, letting her tears fall in with the rest of the castaways.
You must live the life you've been given
they sung her, you must live the life you've been given.
And when she asked why, they whisper
Because we must, because we must.
We looked back, you see, we looked back.
We are only whole in the ocean, on land we are a pile of salt.
A girl who likes to love and live and laugh and sing and dance and wear glitter and stay up too late and watch movies and read and write and eat ice cream and travel and shop and design and wear mismatched socks...this is her adventure.
The writing on the blog is mine. Please please pleaseeee give credit if you repost, and I would especially love it if you commented and let me know! (:
The photos on this blog are not mine. Most are found online through tumblr, and I will give credit to the photographer when known. If a photo on here is yours, please let me know so I can give proper credit.
"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."
"Happiness only real when shared"
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!" "