Falling makes you hit your head. Hitting your head hurts. So falling for you means I’ll get hurt, bad. Then why does it feel so good? Every second I’m around you, all my worries float away, as if they were never there in the first place. And as soon as you walk away, the weight comes back and sits right on my shoulders. It’s as if you pick it up for a minute without even flinching, like you’re some goofy, happy, super strong superhero who came to rescue me. Maybe you’ll carry me in your arms, away from the rest of the world, fly to the unknown—or maybe you’ll drop me, let me fall, hit my head and die.

I love candy! Candy is unhealthy. So I must be unhealthy right? Yet I do everything I should. I exercise, I eat my vegetables, I have a good sleep pattern going. What am I doing wrong? I mean yeah eating candy probably isn’t the best thing to do when I’m trying to stay fit, but it’s not like I do it every day. Maybe once a week tops.

But as I stand here before the mirror and look at my gaunt figure, I have to wonder if it’s not the candy, what am I doing wrong?

I get scared at night time When I’m scared bad things happen So bad things must happen at night? This is the truth I concluded.

People say praying is good Being good gets you what you want So praying will give me what I want! An answer.

No one else can see what’s going on in my head If you can’t see it it isn’t there So this doesn’t exist, I’m faking.

All these assumptions Lies you told me Well I’m only making one assumption From now on

OCD is bad I am not OCD So I am not bad I’ve just made a few mistakes.

They say your life flashes before your eyes. I am currently on a train going who knows where, with a bunch of different versions of myself at a bunch of different ages of my life. So I must be dead, or at least dying.

Wanting is easy, Crossing a line ain’t supposed to be that easy, And here you are way past that fucking line. No one gets hurt? There is alway give and take… You watch…

People get butterflies when they’re in love. I get butterflies around her. So I must be in love with her? No, no, that can’t be right. I’m in love with him- it’s been four years since we got together, and I love him. But I still can’t shake the feeling I get around her. What does this mean? Can I love both, but neither at the same time? Do I love anyone? No, I love someone. I can feel it, and I know the feeling. But who do I love? Her, or him? Both? Neither? If I do love someone… how will I know who?

      With him, I feel warm. Like he is a blanket that will protect me from the world. He is comforting, and gentle. Being with him is summer evenings where you feel happy for no reason, winter mornings where hot chocolate chases away the snow. He is your bed after a long day, a hug when you are sad, clouds that look like perfect shapes. Days that are warm but not hot, chilly but not cold. He is freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and the comforting smell of home. He is everything sweet with a little bit of bitter as well, like you’ll miss him when he’s gone, but you don’t need him.

      With her, though… she is fireworks in the summer, bursts of color across a blank canvas. She is flames, heat, hot summer days where you feel alive. She is a burst of adrenaline and the quick beat of your heart, fast and exciting. She is the exhilarating feel of terror when you are almost caught the first taste of alcohol, night drives with blasting music. She is that guilty feeling of laughing at and making dirty jokes, the smirk of an inside bit of humor, the genuine laugh when someone says something funny. She is breathless, magic, sweet and spicy and sour all at once. She’s intoxicating, hard to leave and impossible to get over. 

      I love them both. In different ways. And that’s okay. Love is different for different people. He is more of a best friend that I can rely on anytime, and she is something special that will eventually settle down. Love is complicated, but it is also wonderful. There are so many kinds of it, sweet love, sour love, friend love, family love, fleeting love, eternal love, and more. But all of it is valid, and all of it is important. 
      Happy pride month all, and remember that all love is special, and to keep on loving, in whatever way works for you ❤️❤️

I’m friends with Mariam. Mariam’s friends with Claire. So I must be friends with Claire. But I’m not. I hate Claire.

Claire is a bitch. I can’t stand her. It’s hard to be friends with Mariam when she’s friends with Claire. No one is nice to Claire except Mariam. Everyone is nice to Mariam.

Mariam doesn’t actually like Claire. She is just a pushover. Her being a pushover gets annoying. That’s one thing Claire and I agree on.

Claire doesn’t want Mariam to be friends with me. I don’t want Mariam to be friends with Claire. Maybe I’m just as bad as Claire.

Sheep follow their masters to slaughter. Media pundits ransom the world for a dollar.

Scientists scream !!!!!📢 “The interconnectedness of things!” Oil companies lie, and the politicians buy, but, the truth stings 😱 🙀 ☠️

The Death of … Everything 🐻 🌳 🐰 🐠

Time to Awake 👊 🍃 🌊 It’s almost too late 😔

The world burns while you walk, asleep. 🔥

Who Are The Real Sheep?

My name is Estelle Asteria. I’m eleven years old. If you find this diary, do NOT get distracted by its lace and its pink color or its bunny characters. This book is enchanted, and if you find this diary, you will be too. If you ever find this in perhaps your bedroom or kitchen, do not even open it. That’s how I got stuck in this horrible but exciting mess.

As you can see, I’ve obviously found this diary, thus why you are now just hearing about it. I had just came back from school and was getting ready to take a nice nap after my EXTREMELY stressful exams. I had just scooped up my Sanrio stuffed animal, Mocha, and was about to hop into my bed until I saw it. The diary. It was lacy and frilly, baby pink, with cute little bunnies decorating it. Of course of my stupid curiosity, I opened it. I do not know why, but it was like something just possessed me and demanded me to open it, so I obeyed. In there was a BUNCH of entries, at least I figured they were, and each one had a tiny description of a spell and a small card, probably illustrating it. Again, of my STUPID curiosity, I tried to repeat one of the spells.

I don’t remember which spell it was, but im pretty sure that it was called “Guardian.” Apparently it was supposed to protect you from the “Other Side of the Mirror” by making something magical about you glow, but the downside was that you needed to imagine your worst fear, then get over it. At first I was rolling my eyes and scoffing. “Did mom and dad really think that id like this kind of stuff?” I asked myself aloud, looked around my bedroom like I was trying to find someone who could have evidence of me, and then squealed and jumped around like a maniac. The truth is, im OBSESSED with magical stuff. Heck, in fact, I’ve watched every magical girl or any magical anime that was cute. I got ready, and then I tried to repeat the spell.

I concentrated really hard, but for some reason I just..didn’t feel anything. “Ugh!” I slammed my face face first into my cotton blanket, startling my bunny, Sweetheart. “Why won’t it work?” I wailed. The book flipped to a different page suddenly, and I let out a shriek in shock and snatched up Sweetheart in a panic, in case I’d have to run away. I peeked at the book gingerly, and let out a choked sigh. Well, the sigh quickly turned into a gasp as I noticed the book had skipped pages after all. I gently put Sweetheart down on my bed and grabbed the diary, and cocked my head to get a better look.

“Hello there again, dear mortal, I’m assuming you’ve came back for another spell? Ah, I do not blame you. Well, I suppose its time I share the spell that you will be learning about today. I’m pretty sure that you mortals can do it, but its mostly aimed for fairies. The spell is called ‘Petal.’ As we all know, fairies are usually known for their dedication to nature, and frills and pink, but that’s every single mythical creature in Wonderland, so that doesn’t matter right now. To preform the spell you will need a rose petal, a cup of milk, a pastry, although fairies tend top prefer strawberry pound cake, and a harp. This spell will grant you any fairy’s protection, you will just need to listen carefully. First, do not, I repeat, do NOT give in to the voices you hear while you preform this spell. I do not care if they’re the most adorable girls with frills and lace and ruffles and the most delicious cupcake offerings you’ve ever tasted, that’s DEFINITELY a big no. Haven’t you heard of the Other Side of the Mirror? Second off, you must play ‘Faerie Soirée’ by Melanie Martinez on the harp. Do NOT forget that. Third step, you must dress very cute, repeat ‘Desire’ and your desired outfit will be in your hands. And lastly, spray your house in sweet scents, like vanilla cupcakes or strawberry pound cake. Good luck, mortal.”

I had obviously panicked, but still, I took a soft breathe and repeated what the book ordered. “Desire,” All of a sudden, something frilly and soft as cotton gently fell in my hands. I looked down, and a dress, Cake Appliqué, was patiently waiting in my hands. It also so happened to be my favorite color, baby pink, and my favorite dress from the Angelic Pretty collection. There was also two pink strawberry hair bands in my right palm. I sighed, and gently set the dress on my bed. My hair was to my forearms, so my ponytails were mini, and I also brushed out my bangs. I slipped on the dress, and I spent a few minutes just staring at myself. I looked so pretty. I snapped out of my hypnosis, and quickly went to go grab what I needed.

I ran to my garden, and grabbed one pink rose petal, it softly danced in the wind so much I needed to trap it under my left palm. Luckily, my mom had just bought some honey and strawberry pound cake, so I was good there. I quickly poured milk into a tall cup, and set all three down on the kitchen counter. I then grumbled loudly, as I had just realized I didn’t have a harp. “What do I do?” I said angrily. All of a sudden, the diary was right next to me, and it was turned to a different page.

“By the way, dear mortals that are reading my diary right now, if you don’t have a harp, just repeat the word ‘Harp’ and it should pop up.”

I said, “Harp.” A white harp appeared next to me, and I was finally ready.

“Miss April, Angels live in heaven, and Mommy said Daddy is an angel, so my Daddy lives in heaven right?”

Travis was driving his white Cherokee Jeep Matchbox car up and down the sides of the timeout beanbag chair. April leaned over and brushed the four-year-old’s unruly cowlick. Ever since his father’s accident the boy had changed. At first Travis was withdrawn. The poor boy’s father was burned to ashes in an unexplainable single car accident. The thought of it made the preschool teacher shudder.

April understood. She had lost her mom when she was only seven. Looking at Travis her chest tightened with memories. Travis’ mother hadn’t been overly concerned about her son’s change. Town gossip was the woman had already moved on with a new boyfriend but April knew in a small town lies fly while the the truth walks.

"Varoom!” she said as she drove her fiery red Mustang racecar toy next to the boy’s Jeep.

They raced together. Travis laid down on the racetrack floor mat and April laid opposite. She expected Travis to be more quiet in the months after the car wreck. Even his bedwetting during nap time was expected. What she hadn’t expected was the violence. The boy went from sad to mad to furious.

He hit and punched Miss Nisha and Miss Kelly when he didn’t get his way. Soon he was throwing tantrums every day. Last week Travis bit his best friend Brooke hard enough to break the skin.

Together their cars rode the blue and red carpeted highways. They visited the zoo and the airport and sped to the farm.

“Travis it’s okay if you’re mad at your Daddy for going to Heaven. It’s okay to be mad. It means you’re missing him.”

“My Daddy is not in heaven no more. He in our house and Mommy says to call him Chuck now. He hides in Mommy’s closet when company comes. Is my Daddy still an Angel Miss April or is he a bad man?”

Miss April’s mouth curled into a surprised O. Travis raced his tiny car around the red road before smashing it into the side of the beanbag chair over and over and over.