The Sensitive Suffer More; But They Love More, And Dream More.

"I don't define myself by the boys who may or may not like me."

-Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano-

There you go girl... life is a fucking shit without its hopes.

Pandora opened the box—

inside the box there was a great wickedness. inside the box there was an apple. inside the box there was the knowledge of good and evil. inside the box there was a mirror. inside the box there was the contents of her own heart, given form and volition. inside the box there was a darkness that was dispelled the moment it was opened, leaving her only with an open box and all the world around her and an amorphous sense of dread.

inside the box there was another box. inside the box there was the box itself, unopened. inside the box there was a replica of the world and all its ills, made miniature. inside the box there was an infinite series of progressively smaller boxes, so that her labor might never be complete, nay, not til the end of mankind.

inside the box there was a secret. inside the box there was the bloody remains of all the women who had dared to open the box before her. inside the box there was a great treasure, a revelation that could outweigh all the splendor of the idyllic world around her. inside the box was whatever evil her Creator had placed inside of it to begin with. inside the box was the innermost portion of the soul that must first be known in order to be loved, were she to love Him in His entirety. inside the box was her inheritance. inside the box was evidence of a crime.

inside the box there was a promise. inside the box there was nothing at all, nothing but a moral lesson. inside the box there was a tiny image of Pandora herself, her head bent over a box as if seen from a great height, and when Pandora looked up it was then for the first time she saw the four walls surrounding her.

Inside the box there was a perfect world, just waiting to begin.

Well, I guess sometimes it's better to leave those places hidden away from us.

The broken shore interrupted photographed by Freddie Ardley

I write this for my sister who died even before my birth. I'm not a perfect poet or anyone like that but all of sudden I remembered that I had a sister even though I got no chance to be with her.

I'm here, somewhere in beach

Wishing you were here, with me, watching the view

Telling me how hard is life and the troubles you've faced

Giving me the streangth

I always used to bargain...

It feels like you're combing my hair

When breeze sweeps by me, and my face

It seems like you're here, holding my hands

But the truth is too rude,

It breaks my heart

Looking at my back, the message is clear

You were never being with me, I know, I swear

But here I am, watching you sail

Cos I'm a light house,

And you're just a cruise

That I've never seen

Mom is grieving on your death

But she's an iron lady, I know you were the same

I love the way she tells the stories about you

And I see that she wants to let you go

But, heck- we had never let you go

Life is too short, just like the dew

Yet heals all souls, fresh and clean

It gives me chills, instead of cold

So goodbye to you; my dearest sister,

Who I never knew....

What can people say? We are always waiting for things to happen, and boom-nothing really happens at all!

The most powerful thing you can do right now is to be patient while things are unfolding for you.

i’m survivin

Tony Stark about Loki

anxiety.

I kinda feel like a wolf now!

when we were