Before Spencer Crest left, he called you ‘doc’. He was your favourite patient, and in return, you were his favourite psychiatrist. You understood him in a way nobody else could. You didn’t know where he came from, who his parents were, or how he knew you, but you never turned him away when he came knocking on your office doors well after hours. But then your favourite patient stopped coming. You asked around, but nobody in town seemed to know him. You never heard from Spencer Crest again. Until he started calling you. Cover Credit: Photo by Willko (willko.deviantart.com/) Design by Go_Figure Trailer Credit: Trailer made by me. WARNING: Contains some gruesome scenes and foul language. Read at your own risk.

This is a short story\poem about a male who finds a female in the middle of a volatile protest. He hadn't been exposed to real world problems yet and She was lost in them. He needed Her so He could grow up and She needed him to remind her that She was young and allowed to have fun. How does one find their true identity in a world filled with idealism, hive-minded peer pressure, and political differences? Sometimes you need a stranger to make you feel a little less strange about who you are.

❝i've delicately chosen letters to form words and words to form sentences, each sentence a colorful paint stroke on the canvas of my mind.❞ [ #1 in poetry on 27/08/16 ]

Cover done by ds_22_me

I should probably warn you. In reading these words, you are letting them know that you can see. Showing them that you realize it is all connected once you are in their world. You are showing them that finally with your eyes closed, you are awake.

I have been having moments where i talk to the voices in my head. Sometimes they lie and sometimes they are true to what I need. These posts are some of those times.