and so, without the slightest hint of doubt, he dove head first in those grand galactic eyes. © all rights reserved 2016 | kimi

happenings : a well plotted conspiracy to rob the skins of the most prestigious school in current Broadway. #73 ( 30.4.18 ) Copyright © 2016 , humanoligy

[ #59 ADVENTURE ] Sitting lonely, wedged between buildings and in the deep, reeking underbelly of this underworld - a pair of wayward twins, a silently powerful fighter, a lost boy. A foreboding storm. And these things - the good, the bad, and the in-between have one thing in common. They are made from lightning.

it's 12 am and i'm wide awake --- just a short disclaimer from the author in 2021, please do note that this was written by a 15 year old.

The night-time confessions of two uncouth strawberry bandits.

"Red fades into an intensity I once felt, Orange starts to appear, a magenta sunset. There's white and some silver shining on my skin, A wonderful twist of fate, a victorious win". A poetry collection all about growing up, change, happiness and love. 💛 Cover credits: Magdiel Lopez

❝She was a sunflower, and even though she never faced the sun, she was still beautiful.❞ When Finnegan Annson reunites with his anything-but-boring, garden-scented childhood friend Orenda May Castellano on a cold winter day, it's no secret that his uneventful life slowly alters into a marathon of new beginnings. And so begins a story about a girl that saw the world in its utmost colours and gradients, and a boy that could not see what the world really had to offer him. Literally. But when Orenda flings Finn into her world of colours and hands him a paintbrush, and their footsteps turn into dapples of colour, perhaps he can see the beauty. And maybe he can see the wonders that no one else can really see at all. After all, anybody can create a masterpiece. Even if it's just with a sucky paintbrush. © 2015 Jennifer Chen (wonder1238) All Rights Reserved

On depression, and recovery. ❝Perhaps this is our kingdom, perhaps our crowns are the green specks of light that fall into our hair. And perhaps this is our fantasy, and perhaps we have no crowns but collars, collars that bind us to our differences and drive away the threat of being alike. Or perhaps we have both crowns and collars. Perhaps these two are in a constant war against each other, just as we are all in a constant war against ideals.❞