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Showing posts from May, 2013

People change. Memories don't.

I remember you. The pure you. Not that fake thing I see now.
I remember your words. The pure words. Not that lies you say now.
I remember your thoughts. The pure thoughts. Not the ones you've changed to fit their liking.
I remember your transformation The impurities I witnessed. You're not the real you anymore.
What happened?

you changed || but my memories didn't
thanks for reading. <3 xoxo, Rose

Letting go.

It's harder than it should be, To let that moment go.
But if I did,
I'd feel lighter.
That's what they say.
But it's so much easier,
To dwell on the memories.
It gives me something to do.
I guess.
Why is it so hard,
To let go of the past?
I guess my heart has,
Taken hold of the memory.
Something that is dangerous,

And hard to fix.
i can't let go || but i try anyways
thank you for reading. <3 xoxo, Rose

I could have done something different...

"Hey, um, do you mind getting that bag down for us?" I mumble, looking down at my hands, not daring to meet his eyes.

He nods, smiling a little and moves to position himself in the right place. I glance over my shoulder at my dear friend, who watches. So I turn back to watch too. He reaches up for the bag, his fingers grazing the side, trying to coax it out of its place on the high shelf. But his fingers catch on the item inside the bag, and it falls, flopping down onto his face in a blur of green fuzziness. I hear laughter, and watch as he laughs along nervously, pulling the leg warmer off his face. The bag is finally retrieved and plopped onto the table. He's still laughing, along with others. I study his tomato red face for a moment, debating on whether to say something or not. But no words come to mind. I don't even have a smile to share. I pick up the bag and walk away, my friend trailing behind quietly.

Have you ever looked back at those moments in time and…


in·spi·ra·tion /ˌinspəˈrāSHən/
Noun 1. The process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, esp. to do something creative: "flashes of inspiration". 2. The quality of having been so stimulated, esp. when evident in something: "a moment of inspiration in an otherwise dull display".

Inspiration helps me write blog posts. Well, it help me write in general. Inspiration is this wonderful sensation I get in the pit of my stomach. It's a nagging feeling that tells me I could do or make something creative, maybe even something that's beautiful.
I try to act on that feeling.
I try to do something inspiring.
I try to give back.

What about you?
What's your inspiration?

inspire me || do something creative

thank you for reading. <3
xoxo, Rose


{ picture via pinterest }
Color. It's vibrant. It's eye catching. It's beautiful.
It shows depth. It enhances our life. It adds to your view of the world.
But what makes color, color?

Who decided pink should be pink, and blue should be blue? What makes green so different from red? How could you describe color to someone?

Color. Tint. Hue.

It is unique.
It is bright.
It is dull.

It is part of anything.
It is part of everything.
It is special.

And I know I take it for granted.

~ ~ ~

Red. I tell myself, dipping my paintbrush into the color and slowly lifting it to the wall. I make a long, thin arch, ruining the clean, whiteness of the barrier that stands between us.
Orange. I put this color right underneath the last, mimicking the arch movement.
Yellow. Green. Blue. I make short, quick motions with the brush, lining each color up next to the last. I put a dash of purple here and there, letting out my frustration and anger. I let all my emotions flow through my paintbrush and out on…


A year ago, today,
We saw each other. We said hello.
We nodded.
I smiled.
You stared.
Then I walked away.

I miss you. I still love you.
I hope you can say the same.

One year later,
We could see each other.
We could mumble our hellos.
We could nod.
You could smile.
I could stare.
And this time, I promise not to run off again.

I miss you.
I love you.
Could you ever think the same?

Today could be the day,
The day we spill it all.
We could say hello.
And stare.
Maybe never letting go.

Do you miss me?
Did you love me in the past?
You didn't let me go when you could?

Today, I am sorry.
But I can't move on.
Just one hello.
One last nod.
One more shared smile.
And I'll go.
If I can.


today, i could see you || don't let {me} go

thank you for reading my dramatic, romance-y, writing.
i appreciate it. <3
xoxo, Rose

A Shared Moment.

"Let's have a staring contest." He pipes up, glancing toward me. I raise an eyebrow, wondering what this means.

"Okay." I say, hesitantly. I look around at the few others gathered around us. My eyes rest on him. Then her. Then on the our siblings nearby. They are engaged in their own conversation. It is just us three. I steal another glance at him, noticing his eyes are still on me. What is he thinking?

"Hey, have you ever heard about the time I--" She starts, but her voice is cut off.


I blink. It is so unlike him to ignore her. I nod silently, signaling I'm ready and trying not to show my surprise.

I think she huffs, but the only thing I can focus on are his deep brown eyes that grow wide as they stare back at me. My heart beats fast. Faster than it should. We stare, unblinking, at each other. I feel as if I've entered my own world. I open my mouth to say something, when our eye contact is broken. By a pillow. I put my hand …


Remember. Never forget. Hold onto. My memory. Don't let me go. Don't let me slip. Hold onto me. Forever.
Your image is burned into my mind. Why must you invade my dreams? I haven't seen you in forever. Why are you still in my heart? I am wondering. Are you?


I don't want to remember you.
Yet I do.
I don't want to think about you.
Yet I do.
I don't want you invading my mind.
Yet you have.
Why do you do this to me?


remember || or forget

thank you for reading this interesting post. <3
xoxo, Rose


They have overcome my life.

I am always reading. Always swallowing, digesting, tasting, each and every word that comes into view. I depend on reading--and books--to take me away to a far away place where everything is almost perfect. Almost. {emphasis on that word} Books have helped me survive. They've given me tips and helped me learn lessons. They've even played as vivid, colorful, moving pictures in my mind. They have shown me that no matter what happens, how bad things can get for the main character, there will *cough* almost *cough* always be a happy ending. Which makes me think, maybe there's still hope for me. Maybe I'll earn a happy ending too...

I need books. I need words. I need to feel the pages between my fingertips. I need to hold a book up to my nose and breathe it all in. I need to find that small bit of happiness. And books always seem to give me that.
Thank you books. Thank you words. Thank you pages, upon pages, upon pages. Thank you new book smell. T…


"Just like me and her." I comment, turning back toward our conversation.

My friend laughs and shakes her head, bending down to retrieve something from her large bag.

"Yeah, we're like this." I cross my fingers, signaling our sarcastic closeness.

"She hates you, you know." My other friend pipes up, adjusting her dance bag on her shoulder and glancing down at her phone.

I giggle quietly, "Really?"

"Yeah. She doesn't say it much, but she does."

I laugh this time. Not caring that my laughter is louder than it should be on this quiet, tired evening.

"I like you as a person and I like her. But I just don't get it. What's up with you guys?" She continues, studying my face, looking over my shoulder at the other girl who just laughs again, still shaking her head.

This time I feign a sigh, and shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. "I don't know."

Apparently, I am hated. Have you ever been to…


Sounds rip through my throat that should not be human.
I'm tired of being silent and unheard.
I'm sick of this.
I'm ready for this to end.

But still, as my lips move, no one turns their head.
Why won't they listen?
Why don't they care?
Why do they look away?

With a growl of frustration, I close my mouth.
I am silent again.
I am thinking, wondering, questioning.
I am mute.

And no one can save me.

I don't know about you, but I'm tired of going unheard. I'm tired of the pain and suffering. I'm tired of wishing, and hoping, and dreaming. My wishes don't come true. My hope won't last for long. My dreams feel like they've been crushed. Will screaming help relieve the pain? Will talking it out help? Will sobbing or kicking or punching or words help? Will anyone care to save me? I'm beginning to think nothing can save me. No one can save me. But myself.
who can i save? || get up and show you care
thank you for reading. <3


{photo made by me}
We are human beings. We crave love. We crave happiness. We crave laughter and smiles. We crave comfort. We crave respect, responsibility, and real, true, emotion. We crave life. We crave challenges and puzzles. We crave knowledge. We crave worldly things. We crave interaction. We crave music. We crave adventure. We all have personal desires. Personal dreams, goals, and accomplishments. But we all seem to crave the same things.
what do you crave? || Nutella... <3


I'm waiting for you. I'm waiting for her. I'm waiting for him. Why do I wait?
I'm waiting for time to pass. I'm waiting for weather to change. I'm waiting for things to happen. My question hangs in the air.
I'm waiting for the world to change. I'm waiting for people to change. I'm waiting for the past to change. Then it drops, slowly rising with the sounds of people whispering and wondering.
I am waiting for love to find me. I am waiting for relationships to form. I am waiting to speak up for myself. My question is never answered.
How long will I wait? How long until I give up? How long until I am rewarded? I leave to find the answer. I am taking action instead of waiting.
I've waited long enough. It is time to do, time to get up and search.
don't keep waiting || laugh at the inside jokes you share

Thank you for reading.


May means flowers.
May means color.
May means birthdays.
May means there are only weeks left until dance is over.
May means we're that much closer to summer.
May means celebrations.
May means it's time to prepare.
What does it mean to you?

stop to smell the flowers || spin around for no reason