This is a terrible excuse for a last drabble. i am so out of things to write about.

i write.  

all curled up in my favorite thinking spot and i lift that ballpoint pen and bite the top.

and i lower it down to the page and scrawl out the things my muse had whispered to me while i lay awake.

so, i write. until there are no more words, simply a piece of artwork on a once blank sheet of white paper.

i don't write in cursive. i write in scrawny lowercase letters which grew bigger as my hand grew lazier and more tired.

but, sometimes, i get to lazy and i just type everything out in arial because everything looks better in arial. or times new roman. But not comic sans.

rachel.

7 years and counting. 

We can share strange(and very unattractive) faces in the midst of stressful places & it makes everything seem better.
And, you know, now that I think about it, we probably have too much chocolate when we're together because we're always too loud. guffawing and jumping around like psychos.
but, along with laughter and smiles, in her i find trustworthiness & understanding.
Thank you Lord for giving me someone who cries at the end of performances, thinks about others before herself, listens to girl problems, and ultimately keeps you in the center of her life.
Bestfriend, I love you so much.

end of the road

he was cold, battered, broken and damaged from the journey.
the shoes on his feet were but dust along the road from which he had come from. his eyes had lost their shine-the punishment of days of walking in the dust with his eyes spread wide open in order to escape the taloned clutches of death waiting for him to give in.
he saw the city.
he saw her running towards him, arms stretched out to receive his broken body.
he felt her around him, so alive within his arms.
and he knew the journey had been worth it.

colours

grey.
the road i walked.
black.
the clothes i wore.
white.
the sound of his voice beckoning me.
"come my child. your wrong has been made right by my blood."
i looked and behold.
red of the darkest blood, shed for my grey.
yellow of the light cutting through the darkness.
blue of the royal clothes he gave me. a sign of the beautiful inheritance i receive through the red, the yellow, the white.
and the colours. the beautiful hues woven throughout the scenery.
i saw them all. I saw their individual importance.
I saw the colours of his forgiveness and mercy.

WaterFire

The fire burned over the water. Bowls of flame, sending sparks like stars upward. The water, shining forth its shimmering reflections. The music, weaving a tapestry of sound around the basin. It was a faerie place, otherworldly, an oasis in the middle of the urban desert. Outside the hallowed perimeter, the screeching and the noise and the struggle for humanity raged.

But I, in my hallowed sanctuary, sat transfixed. Unaware of anything except the opening of another world in front of my eyes. A world made of ancient beauty.

Fire and water and music. The elements of a human soul.