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beautiful

looking inside

what’s moving up when it’s so lonely at the top

         from hearing gunshots to fireworks          tight corners, tough spots  to love plots up at brighton we’d walk

so nice when we’d talk in the night when it was dark you were the fire in my heart guiding light in my thoughts

but like a lighting strike through my pulse

even when i’d lose it all you’d break my fall

i gave my all

but how do i move forward when you saved my soul?  

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The Lucky Ones

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unbreakable

Heavy clouds like hats stitched with problems, seasons change, lives change, who convinced you that you can’t? Luggaged with whatevers,

nobody has it together, so it’s okay. You’re not alone. No matter what, it was always you and me against the world. Here’s our home, in the sun, where we belong

Wings soar above the black helicopters. Into the

holes in the sky. Why cling for safety when deep down you crave to live dangerously? Yeah, the

risks we must take. The rewards are more than worth it, watching the gods roll dice. There is no

compromise. And nothing is conditional. When you’re standing in the sun with me, it will be okay even if it’s not

Nothing is meant to be easy. And this is why the future splits into a parallel universe. Don’t forget what feels not. The one who knew what he wasn’t

And so we carry on, held head high, always ready to face the music

Because that’s who we are

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44 - To Whomever Finds This Journal

When the whole wide world had come to an end, it’s nearly impossible to find happiness. All of my livelihood had been burned away in those bright lights and I spent years in the darkness trying to remember just what made me smile. As my memories began to fade, there was one that lingered just a little longer than the others: my father telling me stories before bedtime. I remembered my tiny little face smiling up at him from ear to ear as I listened. At that moment, hearing my father’s voice in my head, I could feel just the slightest smile creep across my withered old lips. I realized that I could not let that memory be taken from me.

I searched high and low until I was finally able to find what I was looking for. It was at the bottom of an old pile of rubble, the pages just a little charred, but still in relatively good condition. It was an old journal: each page beautifully blank and ready to be filled. I sat down and wrote down my father’s story as best as I could remember. Now that joyous memory could never be forgotten, I would always have it to make me smile. As I scratched the last few words on the page, I felt something that I hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. This atrophied land started to feel a little less sad.

I thought of all of those stories out there in the wasteland that would soon be lost. All of those smiles that would fade forever. It was something I just couldn’t let happen, even if just for my own sake. With my journal, I set out into the world to collect happy memories. I would tell a story to anyone that would listen and the only payment that I require that they tell me one back. If I could fill the pages of this journal, I was certain that the world could find happiness again. It would be my life’s mission.

People had a hard time trusting me a first and I had a gun pointed at my face more times than I would have liked. I understood the sentiment; it was so hard to trust anyone these days, even a rawboned old man such as myself. Folks were usually able to come around after hearing one of my stories. Seeing a smile start to form on their faces as I spoke would always be my greatest reward. They would usually ask for another, but I would always refuse. It was now their turn.

For most, it was hard for them to find a happy memory. It could even take them several minutes as the scoured the inner corners of their brain. It was though they had even forgotten what happiness was until that day. In the end, they would always be able to find something, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. If it mattered to them, it mattered to me. A leather bound man with big muscles told me about getting his first puppy when he was a child, and how it peed on the carpet the very second they brought it home.  A little girl, who had never known the world that I grew up in, told me about the first time she saw the sun through the dark black clouds. A Wedding day, winning the big game, tasting a slice of your mother’s homemade pie; each moment was just as important as the last.

With each passing day, the world began to feel a little brighter. I travelled to so many new places and met so many new faces. I felt as though my life had a purpose again. The world could never truly end as long as there were memories. As bad as things seemed, there were always these tiny little slivers of good, and they were worth hanging onto. Pulling someone from their darkness, even if just for a second, could make the world a little more liveable. It all sounds a little naive and foolish, but I would rather die a fool than a sad old man.

Unfortunately, the pages in this journal were finite and as that last page came closer and closer, I knew that all good things would come to an end. As I flip through the pages and think of all of the people I’ve met and the lives that I had touched, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. I could have burned this journal on a cold night long ago, but these memories are more important than mine or any one person’s life because it is all our lives. It is proof that through the violence, there will always be love in this world. You just need to ask.

So here it is: the very last page. I hope that by reading these stories, you were able to smile. Maybe you were even able to think of a memory of your own. I ask that you hang onto that memory as tightly as you can and never let go. If you come across another empty journal, write that memory down so that not even the darkness can take it from you. If you meet another soul on your journeys, ask them about what makes them happy and write their memory down as well. When you fill your own pages, maybe someone will continue on after you. I would like to think that-no matter how little-I was able to make the world a better place. Just one smile can light up any darkness. You might not know my name, but when I’m gone, it will always be the stories that mattered the most.

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by Elodie Bachelier

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Life is hard […], but we cling to it all the same.

Philip Pullman, The Subtle Knife (via tea-and-scribbles)

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sometimes you just need a nap

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funster [fuhn-ster] noun; a person who creates or seeks fun, as a comedian or reveler.

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Check out my profile on Wattpad, I'm Justin https://www.wattpad.com/kreiosvasu?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_profile searcher..

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#man just got eaten alive

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30 - Faces

No-one in the school had ever seen a dead body before. Death was this strange far off concept that was nearly impossible for our young minds to fully comprehend, though it absolutely fascinated us. Burning ants at recess or gawking at the flattened raccoons by the roadside on long car trips were things that made us laugh because it was so far removed from us. I had never considered that anything like that could happen to an actual human, that someday I would become some unmoving inanimate object. As far as I was concerned, I was going to live forever.

I couldn’t remember who mentioned it first. Someone had known someone whose sister had seen a dead body in the woods behind our school. The news spread quickly around the school as though it were being carried on the wind and eventually made its way to my group of friends. It grabbed the curiosity of my friends almost immediately, though part of me just assumed that the person was napping, and dares and double dares were thrown back and forth to go see it. Eventually it was decided that they would all venture into the woods together after school to find it, and not wanting to be left out, I decided to come along.

When the last bell rang, we made our move. Students were strictly prohibited from going to the woods, which meant having to sneak past the watchful eye of the teacher as we stepped through the jagged line of trees. Some of my friends were almost giddy while others were completely silent as we wound our way under the dark canopy of leaves. It was my first time going into these woods and breaking the rules always made me a little nervous, so I hung near the back of the group.

We wouldn’t have long until our parents would notice that we were missing. We looked as best we could, but the woods were seemingly endless and there was no sign of it yet. I was beginning to suspect that it was all just a story made up by one of the 6th graders, but then why was my heart beating so fast? It couldn’t have just been the thought of getting into trouble that had me worried. The fear only grew when I heard one of my friends let out a gasp.

“There it is!”

I caught a glimpse of it through my friends’ shoulders. It was pale, unnaturally so. It was facing away from us, laying in a ditch like an old discarded doll. It had all the features of a person, but somehow it just didn’t look human. I felt sick, wanting nothing more than to just turn back right then and there, but as my friends began walking closer I still followed reluctantly behind. The woods had gotten so silent at that moment, the only sound was my heart beating furiously in my ears.

It took a while for anyone to speak. One of my friends wondered out loud how the person had died while referring to the body as a he, which lead another to say that she thought the body was in fact clearly a girl. An argument broke out between the two with the others soon joining in. Nobody seemed to be able to reach any kind of agreement about it. I thought personally thought that it looked like a girl, but I wondered if that really mattered. It felt as though this body wasn’t even a person anymore. I chose to keep my mouth shut and wait in desperation until it was time to leave.

They decided that the only way in settling the argument was to turn the body over and look at its face. The sickness in my stomach worsened and I was worried that I would even throw up. They huddled closer still. The body was so heavy that it took a few of them using all their strength to roll it over. My heart was beating louder and louder as the body slowly began to move. At the very last moment, before the face came into view, I pressed my palms tightly over my eyes.

Everyone screamed. I felt someone yank my arm and pull me away. When I uncovered my eyes, we were all running back through the woods. Everyone looked absolutely terrified. I wondered what they could have seen to have scared them so much. As we broke through the line of trees and into the safety of the school yard, the sun was already beginning to hang low in the sky. We all collapsed down onto the grass as we struggled to catch our breath. I wondered if I should ask, but realized that they would probably think that I was a baby for not looking. Thankfully, for better or worse, I soon got my answer.

“Did you see it?”

“Yeah.”

“It had my face.”

“What are you talking about? It had my face.”

“No, it had my face.”

Another argument broke out, this time each and every one of my friends claiming that the body had their own face on it. I knew that it had to have been impossible. They all looked so different and there was no way that the body could have looked like everyone, but I guess there was no way that I could know for certain. I had chickened out, after all. Maybe I was a baby for covering my eyes. I sat up and looked back at the trees, wondering if I should go back, but a voice echoed from across the school yard. It was my Mother and she sounded angry.

It was my first time ever being grounded. I would have to come right home after school from now on and was no longer allowed to hang out with that group of friends. I was devastated and the next morning I dragged my feet as I walked to school thinking about how I was going to break the news to them. Only, when I got to school, I quickly realized that none of them were there. Even in the classroom, their desks were all empty. Maybe their parents’ had pulled them out of school as punishment. I wondered if I would ever see them again. I spent the rest of the day staring out the window at the woods. Maybe they left because I was such a baby.

When the bell ran and I walked out the school doors, I stood silently in the schoolyard. It felt as though I was being pulled between two paths. I could head home where my Mother would be waiting for me, or I could return to the woods and grow a spine. Maybe then my friends would come back to me. Besides, what right did my Mother have in dictating who I could and couldn’t hang out with? I turned and bolted towards the trees, not even paying any attention whether or not the teacher was looking. I was already in trouble anyway.

My heart was beating fast once more, but I didn’t feel sick this time, I felt alive. I slowed my pace as I found my way back to the area where we had seen the day before, then came to a complete halt. It was not just one body anymore. There was more of them now. I counted them out loud in my head. In addition to the first one, it was the exact same number of my group of friends. I looked at all of the faces, I could see them so clearly. It was not the faces of any of my friends that I saw on those bodies, but on every one of them I saw my own.

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“Do no harm but take no crap.”

Unknown

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