Someone once told me that letting go can hurt less than holding on.
Someone else told me that letting go is like learning to fly.
I have wings that pain me to use. I have the pixie dust but my parents hold me by my ankles.
I'm ready to jump and glide to where people can't find me, but their chains of convincing sentences aren't allowing me to do so.
So what do I do?
What do YOU want me to do?
Because you know my choice..
and you know that's not the one you want me to make.
So what's it gonna be?
_____
no comment..
-belle <3
YOU ARE READING
one day i began to think
General FictionAlright, so this was formally known as lazy reads. It's no longer that. I do put short stories on here occasionally. OCCASIONALLY. But recently it's been a nice little public journal that really no one reads. What I publish is supposed to be someth...
