i think i'll take my time to morning.

this is why i LOVE not sleeping. there's peace. there's progress. there's being able to write with a flow that only comes in the pretty hours of complete dark. there's painting and doodling and warm coffee.
and right now, there's rain :]
tons of rain. fall, falling, fall.
i can hear it spatter in the cold.




she aged to fifteen in a way that made her feel unwell, as if she had seen the flutter of white bird's wing being interrupted, broken&arrested, like realization. and she sat amongst those who had reached their age in a similar way; the room was dim and yellowish, and she leaned against the corner, wanting to be consumed by the intersection of the groped, abused walls. her eyes were painfully open and wet, like the residue of rain on cold skin. and as a single drop of lukewarm champagne slid down her bottom lip, like the slowed movement of worn branch in the wind, it hit her that she had aged, like so, and she coughed gently before inhaling and catching the scent of wasted time.