She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful. She was made up of contradiction and clumsiness. She could never stay in one place for too long, she was restless and yearned for undiscovered places. 

She loved dog kisses, honeysuckle, and deserted towns. She was afraid of love but at the same time craved its sweet touch. She was a mess of inconsistency who couldn't decide how she felt. She was ready to take on the world yet she ached to be young again. She was stuck between who she was and who she wanted to be. 

She loved hard with all her heart and was stubborn when she wanted to be. Everyone thought she was as easy to read as an open book, but they didn't realize that her book was only mean to be read by certain people. The book they were reading wasn't her book, it was the book of who she portrayed herself to be. 

Who was she really?

Well, she was still trying to figure that out. But when she finally gets it, nobody will know anyway. 

That's how mysteries are supposed to be. 

Clara xx