if we were made of water, the salt would kill us. we would drown with it in our lungs, and we'd beg God, saying sorry sorry sorry for thinking that we could control the ocean and the skies. if we were made of water, maybe none of this would've happened. maybe we would've seen this coming. maybe we wouldn't be here saying sorry sorry sorry for something we did, something I did, but can't remember . *description inside* <3

hysteria looks good on us // poetry

bloodlust of the most tender kind 2022 © moonlid

Two weeks, one boy and an investigation with so many twists it may as well be a slinky. Unless Ali Shaffer can write the best mystery article her teacher's ever seen she can kiss her future goodbye. But in a game where your closest allies are the case's biggest suspects, the only thing left to do is not get caught along the way.

the first is always the hardest, my love

finding myself © summer 2021 collection

Galaxies and constellations hung in the balance. I was dangling over the abyss, my hand gripping yours. You were smiling at me. Your eyes looked like stars. You were promising to never let go. And then you did. I looked up at your starry eyes, I scrambled for your fingers for a second, then tumbled from the edge. And now I am descending slowly into madness. ----- A collection of thoughts and bittersweet remembrances to read in the rain.

in which there is a hoodie. a hoodie that has gone through eight different people, each with their own story.

"its been three days since you left, and i can still hear the drumming of your heartbeat in my head." ©tiredstoner | 2015

falling in love is a disease that will leave this book unfinished until the day i die