don't bottle them up. don't bury them deep down within yourself, and you better not swear to never tell anyone.
don't feel bad for feeling a certain way. don't put yourself down for seeing something a little differently. you're you, and no one can change that.
who cares if you like someone you shouldn't? you said you shouldn't? why should you care about their words?
you feel angry? it's okay to let it out. to go outside and just yell. let it out, man.
something's tearing you up inside? tell someone. if you can't, write it down. burn it, crumple it up, rip it to pieces. just get it out.
you don't agree with someone's opinions? that's fine. you don't need to agree with everything others say. you're worried they may hate you? well, if they hate you for your views, then maybe you're better off without them, anyway.
the stools near the windows ; lightbulbs dangling from chords above the counters, shining their soft light ; plants in their pots, their tendrils hanging down ; brick-and-wood aesthetic ; white letters on the windows with the name of the shop ; arrow decals? maybe ; always the smell of coffee beans (like you'd expect) ; white, always white ; a little sign on the counter with something about coffee ; soft throw pillows on the bench (if there is one) ; open floor plan ; chalk boards and flowing script ; a happy atmosphere ; a mix of pop & alternative music playing ; wooden floors ; optional: a barrel full of coffee beans (or at least the first few inches are) .
You stayed on my tongue like my favorite tea. Peppermint. You didn't smell like Christmas at all. You just wouldn't let yourself be washed away, stuck on strong like a thistle to my side. You'd laugh and tease when I tried to prie you off. "Not today, Angie. I'm busy." You still hung off my arm, that childlike glee about you. You would use my height to your advantage, stick on strong, arms wrapped around my bicep. You'd giggle like a child as you swung with my step. "Okay! I'll just wait until you're free!" That childlike wonder of yours set my heart to rest. I didn't have to worry about you. But I would anyway, the way a mother did for her child. I'd brush you off, like usual. My bag filled with my college textbooks, yours with your highschool ones. Still, you'd act as if you were just out of second grade, zipping around with boundless energy and enthusiam. Sometimes I'd give in.
a/n: so a few posts ago i had a list of things i wanted to write. this is the 'soft' entry. it's been a while since i've written fluffy things like this, so please forgive me if it's not too good !
"Morning.." Her soft yawn in my ear had the hint of a smile behind it. Her arms were around my waist underneath our shared comforter, and she pulled me closer, nuzzling her head into my hair. "You're beautiful.." I smiled softly, leaning back. "No, you." There was a breeze coming in from the windows, blowing the light curtains inwards. The hem of one nearly touched my nose before settling back against the windowseat and pillows. Jack, our cat, stretched, his little claws coming out from his paws as he did. He then blinked at us, meowing loudly. "Someone wants food," Isi said sleepily, drawing the comforter over our shoulders - it had slipped sometime during the night. "But I wanna sleep.."
I was one of the lucky ones. I managed to get into a shelter in a skyscaper, one of the best in the city. It overlooked everything - the sea, the roads so far below, the clouds, the people. I absolutely adored it. When I was young, sometimes I'd sneak up here and just watch everything going on. Kicking my legs out, tossing things off of whatever story i was on - fifty? Sixty? Just to see if it would hit the ground or if it would hit someone. You never know. I once tipped a chair over the edge and giggled as it smashed right beside a car. Later, on the news, the reporter said that police were looking for the culprit. I'd almost killed someone! But they never found me.
home. where you belong, usually. where you go to school, to work if you're lucky. where you make friends and meet up with them.
i do that. i meet up with my friends at cafe 49 on main street. i go to school just minutes from my house if i ride my bike, less if i drive. i work an even shorter distance away.
i've got friends on my street, ones that will come out of their house to pet my dog. i know my neighbors well; mrs. jan to my left, mrs. joyce to my right. i know the roads better and have never gotten lost. it's easy for me to go miles on my bike without even realizing how far i've went.
it's nice, my hometown. the middle of the county. 40 minutes away from a too-big city and less from the countryside. we don't have too much crime and it's quiet.
new york is a nice state, if you're not in the city. syracuse? nah. nyc? nah x2. buffalo? nah x3.
i've never been super into art. it all just was paintings and brush swirls to me. but today i started seeing it a little differently.
there was an art piece where a woman became tools. not become them, exactly, but acted like them. she was moved like a broom, her hair the bristles. she was thrown like dirty laundry into a basket. she was a balance used to measure vegetables.
she made a point, i think. she did this to make a statement on how women are used, much like those tools. it even said so on the description before i entered the exhibit.
there was another one with a smokey haze and projected light shining onto risen panels. as the light shone onto the panels, the haze was illuminated too.
you could step into it. i walked along that light, my new shoes toeing the line, bright against the darkness.
coffee shop setting ; soft characters, ie, just woke up with their s/o next to them ; a soft, painless death - old age? with their loved ones near them ; small things to give personality - gestures, soft/loud voices, tics, etc ; chapter titles, synopses, maps in the book - if i get published, of course ; weather descriptions - hard and soft, violent and peaceful ; full fledged main characters, ie, julio and ravilo ; fully built worlds, ie, belund, silvest, riore, etc ; believable motives, and questionable ones too ; raw emotions ; pain and hurt but also love and comfort ; a reoccurring bird that brings luck. a twin that does not ; character growth. young and scared --> older and more confident ; rules for magic, not just 'you gotta say the words right' ; homages to past characters ; fufilling lives but also empty ones ; characters with more than one motivation for long amounts of time ;
