Here’s to the girl who’s far from perfect. The one who’s confident yet completely insecure at the same time. Here’s to the girl who cares just a little too much. She loves with all of her heart yet pretends to have no emotions. She has her bad days and her really bad days, but most days are good and she’s thankful for that. She loves her family and friends, and she’s learning to love herself too. This girl is so extremely passionate, more than it even comes across. It is often her strength and her downfall. She wants to be swept off her feet, but will never be taken advantage of. She’s strong, but vulnerable in ways some will never know. She’s opinionated and a perfectionist and her mind is filled with the most beautifully outrageous dreams. So here’s to the girl who’s still trying to figure things out. The one who people might not know as well as they think they do.
Kiannah Joylinn (i’m in love with this. by far one of the most personal things i’ve ever written)
What Sansa Says:
Bran is home...he has visions now.
What Sansa means:
Hoooo boy okay Arya I am G L A D you are home so I don't have to deal with this Three Eyed Raven shit by myself I love our brother but WOW lemme tell you it's been a day since he's been home and I cannot with his cryptic messages THANK YOU ARYA FOR COMING BACK-
what she means:
k-pop was supposed to be something that made people feel good, but instead it has become a way of receiving more likes, views, and followers. not only has it become something people use to gain popularity, but fans are constantly fighting each other and promoting their faves by demoting others. why can't it just be enjoyed like it used to be? why does everything have to be a competition? when will people stop using k-pop as a pathway to thousands of subscribers?
Internal monologue. All credit for the poetry goes to Sabrina Benaim. I changed the end a bit to better suit me. But other than that, I understand every word she says and it resonates deep within my soul.
It’s not simple to say That most days I don’t recognize me
Lance glanced into the mirror. He looked different than he had when he left the earth. His jaw was broader, he thought. His real smile no longer as flashy and more hesitant. He didn’t really like the changes. His face was paler too, from less time in the sun. He liked that even less.
His body was more toned, in a way that screamed that he needed to survive. He needed to survive. But that was the truth, wasn’t it. He needed to survive. It had been a long time since he had ever muscles in a noticeable way, but now they were defined. Rugged. It would have been attractive on anyone else, but Lance thought it just made him look more tired. As if he traded sleep for muscles.
He was taller now too. He didn’t know how he become so tall, but he was taller now. He was probably taller than Alejandro, but not as tall as Luis. It made him hate the extra inches. Those inches represented a time in his life that he didn’t want to think about. Even though it wasn’t over if he was honest. It would never truly be over.
He didn’t like that looking in the mirror made him realize how much he changed. How much he didn’t recognize himself.
That these shoes and this apron That place and its patrons Have taken more than I gave them
Lance didn’t like how much he sacrificed to save the universe. Of course, he was glad that he helped save all of those people he did. He would never regret that. He would never regret being a hero.
But for some reason, he lost himself in his struggle to save the universe. He was changed in a way that he didn’t recognize, and didn’t want to recognize. Not really.
It took so much out of him. His mind was still on a strict, ‘we could be attacked at any moment, do not relax’ setting and he couldn’t seem to turn it off. He hated it so much. Hated that he couldn’t handle slumping down without observing his surroundings, hated that he lost trust in the people around him because what if, what if. And he hated even more how he had to have a weapon on him at all time- be it his beyard, or some sort of knife.
He hated that.
He hated that his team took more than he was willing to give, in their efforts to make each other as battle ready as possible.
It’s not easy to know I’m not anything like I used be, although it’s true I was never attention’s sweet center I still remember that boy
He glanced at himself in the mirror again, his hands grazing the clod surface with a sort of longing that screamed that he wasn’t ready too even look at who he had become. But he did anyway.
He didn’t feel like himself.
He really felt like an impostor in his own skin, because this couldn’t be him.
He may have always been at the center of attention but now it was so different, earth shattering-ly so. He wasn’t okay with the changes he had to make, and now he had to live with them. Live with the knowledge that he was never going to be that boy again.
He’s imperfect, but he tries
God he had tried so hard, at everything. At the Garrison, at being like Veronica, at growing up, at taking care of himself. At being a good role model for his niece and nephew. He was trying so hard.
But he had been so, so, so imperfect. Everything he did he messed up one way or another, and that was okay because he was trying so hard to be good.
He is good, but he lies
And he was good. He had been good. He had been happy, and forward, and joking, and good. He had been curious and lovely and kind, and rude and loud, and so many things and he was so good. He had been so good. He had been so so good.
But he had lied a lot. To himself, to his mama, to veronica, to everyone. He had lied about how happy he was. And he had been so so hard on himself.
He is hard on himself
That’s what hurt the most. How hard he had been on his younger self, as if he was the devil. Lance wished he could turn back the clock and tell him to enjoy the life that he had, the one that he was getting to lead.
And now, here he was, five times harder on himself because he had to be. He wished he had asked for some type of help all those months- years- ago. Because he needed it now, and he couldn’t ask for it.
He is broken and won’t ask for help
He was so sad and broken and for a long time he had thought that he could never be fixed. And maybe younger him was right. Maybe he couldn’t be fixed. But god, if he wasn’t the most beautiful arrange of glass shards when he was younger.
Maybe he had been broken, but he had been so much more. He had been chaotic, and good, and messy and kind and so many other things including broken.
He is messy, but he’s kind
He had been such a hot mess. A beautiful glorious hot mess that had smiled so wide at his mother and kissed her cheek. He had braided Sophia’s hair as his niece would tell him about her day. He used to be so kind and messy and brutal.
He had been so soft, so kind, and so good. He had been a lot. He had been so good. And maybe he had been lonely, but he had been so good.
He is lonely most of the time
He had been so lonely. He had a few friends, and he had an amazing but he had been lonely. He was so many things at once and he had been trying so hard.
He had been trying. He had been so good. Maybe he lied, maybe he was imperfect. But he had been so many things. He had been so messy and rude, and kind, and loud, and dramatic, and so so so beautiful.
He is gone, but he used to be mine
He wasn’t sure he was any of those things anymore.