Jesus is awesome!
♥ lightning bolts, electric blue, cereal with milk, words, being with all my favourite people even if we have nothing better to do, mayday parade, strong winds, unpolluted blue seas with clear shores, white snow althouogh i havent seen it, i japanese movies, all time low, harajuku with the goths, windy sunsets


Designer/ %PURPUR.black-
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A Abby Abraham ABNW Abigail-Joy Allison Amy Audrey B Ben C Cara Caleb Carolene CheeSiang Cherilyn Clarissa D Daniel Drama E Eunice Eleanor Evelyn Esther F Friendster G Gavin Gerald Gordon Grace H Hansel Haozhong Hanx Haris I Ian Tay Izac J Jayne Jacquelynn Jeannette Julian Jumana JunYi Justin Joanne Joey John Joshua K Keren L: Liverpool LiLing Lovelle M Marc Mark Marissa Michelle Mirabelle Monica N Nathaniel Nerine NickNgo P Potato Prash Q QiAi R Ryan S Samantha ShiHui Shreedee Siti SixPeace T Timoo Timothy Theodore Tricia V Valerie Venessa W Wendy Wesley Y Yoga Yunxin Yutong

Wednesday, June 20 { 3:55 PM }

It's raining umbrellas. The little paper ones that usually come with tropical drinks, and always decorate hot fudge sundaes. Black strokes mark their colorful tissue- Chinsese characters, the symbols for luck and long life. The umbrellas open and close like butterfly wings, rustling, tearing; toothpick ribs creaking, snapping. The shower becomes a storm I cannot escape.
/
The blackness is so thick, it almost seems to have substance. From far away comes the sound of feet, marching. More feet join these feet. They're coming closer, getting louder. More feet and more, until it sounds like an army is approaching, an army so loud it feels like it's inside my head- bang, bang, bang. The army marches around me, kicks against me, leaps over me, and lands on the other side, almost hurting me, but not quite. Then it fades into the distance, the sound growing softer, the army growing smaller. Until there are two feet, marching away, gone together, leaving me alone in the dark...
/
Dancing under the water. A lonely waltz in the seaweed, a tangled turn and spin. Someone digs me deeply. In a rush of bubbles, I go down.

"Tired, so so so tired. I want a b r e a k, give me morphine, get me high to forget all the memories. The memories I held so dear, but now I want to forget.
I'm sick of getting panic/anxiety attacks, it sucks everytime I get it, I think I would die.
"Pull my strings just for thrill, and I'll be okay.'' I wished I could say it and mean it. "