Experiences.
They're a gift all on their own.
Spending time with friends, laughing and talking about stuff that doesn't even really matter to anyone but us.
Immersing myself in a world of roleplay, where I'm whoever I want.
Writing poems and stories, some just for myself, some for the world.
Even getting angry, or sad, or grieving is a gift.
For as long as you can feel, you know you're alive.
That's why experiences are such a gift.
Posted in response to the challenge Life gifts.
Gentle as water sliding down your face,
A voice like a bell.
A smile as delicate as a rose,
But as strong as an eagle.
Hands and arms with ink scribbled over them like tattoos.
Hair like a sunset.
Every time I open my eyes I see a different world staring back at me.
Sometimes it’s beautiful.
Sometimes I hate it.
Lately, I've seen more hate than love.
Freedom is a concept I think about often.
A concept I don't really understand.
Yes, we have it.
But it often feels like we don't.
How am I supposed to see how free I truly am, when I just feel trapped?
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