"You know what stood out to me when I first met you?" He asked me. I shook my head. "Most people who walk in here, I can guess where they'll go. Which genre, I mean. But you, you surprised me." "Why?" I asked. "Because you." He said. "You walked in here with a Fall Out Boy shirt on, and went straight for the classical section."

❝her name was Blue, and she was a Beaumont❞ [lowercase intended]

In life, we all reach a point where we have to take action. But vandalism? Mr. Cowell, you might want to rethink this one.

❝Oh, what's wrong, love? Too shy to speak?❞ © copyright recklesslou 2014-2015

You know life isn't going to plan when your 19 and still a kissing virgin. I take that back, my grandmother once attacked my lips when I was 9. Does that count? Her life seemed hopeless, so what did she do? Join the fetch club.

you haven't really met me until it's three am and we're all alone.

❝vintage radio, 87.4 FM and the thoughts of a distant, traveling Nora.❞ ||cover by hopedonuts||

"Paisley's Guide to Everything Complex in this Mishap World." †

because we teenagers have been perfected.

“I’m Mason,” he said. I nodded, and clicked the X in the corner of the computer screen so that it would go back to the home page. “And you?” he asked, and I looked at him, a questioning look on my face. “Your name,” he added, cocking his head to the side, “you do have one right?” “Hazel.” He looked at me for a moment, and then he laughed, one of those deep laughs that could warm your heart. “What is it?” I asked, tugging on my shirt just incase it had ridden up, which the fabric had a tendency to do. “Your eyes aren’t hazel,” he replied. “Neither are yours,” I retorted and he rolled his eyes. “But my name isn’t an eye color is it?” he asked. “Look,” he commanded, and I looked over to find him straining to keep his eyes comically wide. ”My eyes are green,” he announced, but he didn’t need to. They were a bit striking, and I noticed them the moment he walked in ...