i write things

and sometimes art too idk

[scribbledthougt-s-blog]

Mind Blurb #7

I miss something I never had.

[scribbledthougt-s-blog]

Mind Blurb #6

"Yet the world with him was black-and-white, and the world without him was color. How could I possibly look at the color around me and not long for our black-and-white world? I wanted to appreciate the sunset leaves and ocean skies, but here, the vivid color was my grayscale."

[scribbledthougt-s-blog]

Mind Blurb #5

"What you don't seem to see, my dear, is dreams are for when there is no hope left."

[mingdliu-deactivated20210422]

You know what your problem is? 

You look forward to endings before things have even begun.

[tristamateer]

In the Sims 4 version of our lives, I’m so busy kissing you  that I forget to put a roof over our heads.  We don’t even paint the walls until after we’re married.  The dishes pile up and we chase each other around them.

Trista Mateer (via tristamateer)

[scribbledthougt-s-blog]

Mind Blurb #4

but then sometimes i remember that in some other universe in some other where i would have never met you at all and i think i would rather be in an universe where i knew you and you weren’t mine and i wasn’t yours than in one where i had no idea who you were at all

- it’s way too early in the night to be having these types of thoughts

[alaskaisnothere]

Writing is my passion. It’s my happiness and my curse since I seem to be at my best when I am at my worst. It’s what keep me alive, what makes me believe in a better future, what keeps me going. Dad says that I spend too much time on my computer; I say that spending all those hours on this useless website and seeing those little numbers grow is what makes me happy. It may be stupid, you can say that but it’s my thing and yeah, I’d probably be happier in the real world but for now I’m stuck in this one and I’m glad to be in it.

giulswrites (via giulswrites)

[scribbledthougt-s-blog]

Mind Blurb #3

"I'm not exactly sure when beautiful skies or summer songs turned into reminders of you, but I have a feeling it began the day we met."

[scribbledthougt-s-blog]

Summer Is

Summer is clouds weaving through windless skies as the sun shines down from above.

Summer is the bead of sweat running down the back of the neck and bare feet sifting through scorching sand.

Summer is children laughing and playing while the sky turns orange, and bonfire ashes drifting toward the canvass of stars above. It is the cool taste of ice cream like a raincloud on the tongue and too much deodorant and chlorine stinging the tips of the eyes.

It is friendship and fireworks and family and parades and stupid decisions and love and loss and love again.

Summer is warmth and happiness beneath the sun shining down from windless skies.

[scribbledthougt-s-blog]

Mind Blurb #2

"Artists...we're slightly disconnected from the world, you know?" He met his ivory eyes to hers, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from one corner of his chapped lips. "Always a part of us is wandering, roaming somewhere else, whether it be strolling through the field of a forgotten planet or exploring the bottom of an unknown sea. And we literally do follow our dreams, you know? We dream something interesting and then we paint it, draw it, sculpt it, write it, sing it, anything. I think that our disconnection from the world makes us more vulnerable, definitely. But it also strengthens us in ways others could never imagine."

[theliteraryjournals]

Sometimes the dreams that come true are the dreams you never even knew you had.

Alice Sebold, The Lovely Bones (via theliteraryjournals)

[scribbledthougt-s-blog]

Flash of Green

As far as she was concerned, he was the boy with the bright green sneakers who sat across from her on the bus to the museum. She would enter to the smell of stale gum and tobacco at 11:45 to find him already sitting there, bopping his head to the music that blasted though his earphones. On rare occasions, she would think of smiling a hello in greeting. But she never did. As far as he was concerned, she was the girl with the bright green hair who sat across from him on the bus every morning to the museaum. She would come at precisely 11:45, never late, and occupy the seat directly across from him. Sometimes, he would consider waving to her in greeting. But he never did. And then one day, he had to meet a friend early and her hair appointment ran over, and he took the early bus and she took the late, and both of them couldn't help but to stare at the empty seat across from them, wondering where the boy with the sneakers or the girl with the hair had gone. And then they would feel worry pool in the pit of their stomachs, fear, dread, whatever you wish to call it. Was the girl with the hair alright? Had the boy with the sneakers moved away? But then he laughed at himself for he had taken the early bus, and she laughed at herself for she had taken the late, yet she couldn't help but wonder if the boy with the sneakers noticed her absence, and he couldn't help but to wonder if the girl with the hair noticed his. And then as they walked the museum's halls later that day, her with her freshly dyed hair and him with his old tattered sneakers, they both caught a flash of green out of the corners of their eyes. And the girl with the hair and the boy with the sneakers decided that maybe, just maybe, it was finally time to say hello.

[scribbledthougt-s-blog]

Mind Blurb #1

The two of them gazed into the star- dappled sky, which stretched before them like a canvas. Grass tickled their feet, and the soft blanket ruffled beneath them. A cool night breeze drifted by, carrying with it the smell of a midsummer night. “Do you think,” she began, her tone thoughtful, “do you think there is anyone else out there?” As soon as the soft words left her mouth, she blushed. What a cliché question to ask. She didn’t see, but he turned his head and smiled at her. “I like to think so. I like to think there are maybe two others, staring up at the sky just as we are.” She grinned a mischievous smile. “Hello!” she shouted suddenly, shattering the still air as she jumped up and down, waving dramatically at the sky. He laughed and joined her, bouncing and whooping and making all sorts of noise. And perhaps, light-years away on a tiny pinprick in the star-dappled sky, two others jumped and bounced and whooped and waved back.