awkwardbella

 I love reading books, I'll tell you why, and it gives the author the power of creation. Every word that is written, every line that is spoken comes out of the author's mind. There are no limitations except the ones that are set by the author. This granting of power might seem excessive so some, the fact that one person can change hundreds of destinies but, is that not what we hold precious of religion? The encounters in my life are nothing but unexpected. The people I run into are not placed there for me to get a clearer path of where to go, it is a mere coincidence. I like to think that we write our own stories but more common than not it

Is there a certain moment when we just give up? A moment where we just star at the mirror unsatisfied with what stares back at us and just quit? Because if that is true then that certainly explains a lot of things. There should be logical reason as to why we work so hard to please people who are not us. It sure as hell should be a lot better than because you and I just want to "fit in". If we are not happy then why should anything other then trying to become happy matter? It is a question that boggles my mind but no matter how many self help books and motivational talks I listen to, watch or read it has remained unsolved. When I look in the

His sharp jaw looks like it could cut through ice, his ice were a shade of blue I have never seen before, his hair is jet black and unruly. He looks like he just came out of a magazine. After a couple of seconds of just continually staring at his face and seemingly incredible physique. realizing I was borderline drooling an attempt was made to regain my composure. "Ummm, thank you" my shaky voice surprised myself and brought a smirk to his face. "No problem, are you okay?" I was not okay, this dude had me gasping for air, seriously what is he? "I, uh haha yeah, totally. What was the question again?" His smirk just kept getting bigger; damn

Time is passing painfully slow. My heart is racing in my chest, I am having a mini-anxiety attack and I have no idea why. Why should I anyways? I can't say that thing have been perfect, they haven't. I stare out the window watching the leafs sway changing the tones of green ever do slightly. My teacher is currently taking but it seems like distant noise to me, she hasn't noticed I'm not paying attention, I'm glad. I don't feel like being taken into account or basically interacting with anyone in this school. There is never really a time where I like to be noticed, I prefer to lurk in the shadows continuing my antisocial attitude; nobody here

Nothing is forever. Nothing ever will be. Whether it is the "perfect" relationship or a moment of peace we wish to cherish and hold throughout our lives. One day we will eventually realize how quickly everything changes, how it is impossible to find something that will stay the same forever. It is the truth we all have to face and the truth that we try to avoid. A person can have many faces but there are only two I have come to know personally. First is the face that everyone else sees. The plastic smile we slap on before interacting with others. Now, whether that face changes depending on whom you are with then that is your choice. The seco

How do you tell someone something they don't want to hear; how do the words that you know will break that someone ever leave your mouth? Watching as they break down without knowing what to do. Aware in our conscience that slowly, we killed a part of that person. We are used to hiding behind a façade. A side we show to the world in order to obscure the awful truth. Little do the people around us know of our pain, the moments of weakness or the sleepless nights. It is the secret we confide in ourselves (and a few others) to keep. Behind that mask lie our insecurities, facts from the past that we like to leave buried behind, and other rand