Lady In Red

I know it's a bit early but what are your New Years Resolutions? I have some very vague ideas, but I would like to know what you are motivated to change.

Hi. Thanks for the follow! I hope you'll enjoy reading my stories ☺

Thank you!

Hey there! 
          Since, Netflix is making the series of 'Shadow and Bone' , I'm asking your help to spread this link to your fellow Grishaverse fans and Leigh Bardugo herself—by any way possible (but preferably twitter—if you have; since it has the highest chance of getting noticed there) 
          Just press this link once, and see for yourself if it is worthy of being noticed or no.
          
          https://pin.it/kctc3usmwm5aj7
          
          
          Thanks if you understand !

I don’t know how anyone can say people on the internet are mean because, yeah, there are a select few that aren’t very nice, but people on this app have helped me through MENTAL BREAKDOWNS and I’ve never even met them. Just imagine how nice people could be in real life, face-to-face. Wouldn’t it mean so much more to get help from someone in real life?

I stare at the back of your head, drinking in all of your features, or at least, the features I can see from here. I shift in my seat, the cold metal tingling on my skin. I should be listening to the man lecturing us, the man who spent his whole life training to lecture us now. I wonder if he has ever stared at the back of someone’s head. You throw your head back to laugh, making me wish I could laugh like you. With you. I would tell you how I feel about you but I can’t even put it in to words in my own room, much less in public, much less speaking to you directly. Why does this hurt so much? Why do I think I’m entitled to have feelings for you? It’s not like you’ve ever showed any interest in me, except for when we were 10, when you told me you liked me over snow cones at recess. So why do I still imagine we have a relationship? Every glance, every smile, every word sent my way, feeds into my stupid fantasy. I have so many other options but I keep coming back to you. We’ve never even held hands. I’ve thrown away relationships waiting for you. I’m turning into a cliché bitch because of you. But thank my lucky stars you think I’m a nice girl. 

━━☆⌒*. tysm for the follow!
          

I’ve locked myself in my room for the past 3 days. I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday morning. The flowers my mom brought me on my birthday are wilting, just like I am. It comforts me to know I’m not the only one suffering. The delicate roses plead to me, crying out for help, begging for something I can’t even give myself. The petals cling to their stem, hoping that when they inevitably fall, someone will be there to catch them. I pour out the filthy water in a vain attempt to revive them and their beauty. I stare at the vase that belonged to my great grandmother. She’s been long forgotten, too. Her name was Peggy, but everyone remembered her as Ganny, plain and simple. They thought of her often. They thought of her when she was struggling to care for four kids during a war. They thought of her when she was rotting in a nursing home. They thought of her while she clung to pictures of the people who no longer cared. They thought of her while she rocked herself to sleep in her hospital bed, realizing that her time was almost up. They thought of her as her beloved husband clung to her beautiful wrinkled hand as the life slipped from her. They thought of her as they passed her casket, placing a rose lovingly on the wood, a rose that would wilt just as mine do now. They think of her even now, at this very moment. But, I can empathize with my great grandmother. Because, just like her, everyone thinks of me, pictures me in their head, but when I actually need them, their thoughts will be elsewhere. And then it will be too late. 

Cameron Boyce, Rest In Peace, you will be missed. 

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