Whatever I do when I get older, I pray its something that I don’t have to wake up early for every morning. I feel like I have a job cause I already do that now. -_-

OMG. Scratch that. THIS IS THE MOST EVENTFULLY EPIC THING IVE EVER READ EVER. period. 

This is the best news i have received to this date. period. 

because hugs can’t heal all wounds. It’s something that’s only temporary. 

(via w00denheart-deactivated20120312)

What are you supposed to do when all you want to do is run in the opposite direction. When nothing can ever fulfill you but freedom and peace, but all you’ve been given is a rubix cube of problems that need to be solved? They all have a times table and they all need to be filled accordingly after the last one. What am I supposed to do if I’m still breathless from unwinding the last puzzle. I need rest. I need a place where I can go and I can actually breathe without a pressing appointment or task hidden in a crevice of my mind. I’m not happy. I’m burdened, encumbered.

I could almost hear him walking up those dreaded steps to my front door. Waking up with sweat collected on my forehead and my hands clenched into fists, with a strength that only anger can lend to me. Looking down on the floor covered with a large carpet stained with dried up blood and stains from drinks and beer from when you were here. I grab my glasses and look into the mirror attached to the dresser that you paid for with the money you stole. I’m standing right in front of the mirror but the image being reflected is not at all what I imagined myself to be. My face looks as if a painter used a brush and made flowers with purple, red and blue tones and placed them wherever he pleased. I lift my arm to touch the masterpeice on my face. The sleeve of my shirt lifts along with it to reveal letters written in ink. “You were worth it.” I close my eyes and try my best to inhale the tears to no avail. The lids are like a log in a never-ending brook, it can only hold the water for so long. Pressure can break even the most brittle of things. I hear the door as I breaks the sound barrier. His footsteps are heard within my mind. I crawl under the bed and a pillow pressed close against my mouth. The shadow of his steel-toe boots enters the room. He screams my name as loud as a monster can. I can feel my heart dropping into the bowels of my stomach, being ripped apart by the acid within. I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave because what will he do when he finds me? Kill me, I’m guessing. That’s the only thing he hasn’t done so far. His boots walk out the bedroom door and soon, out the front door, as well. I muster up my strength and crawl out from underneath the bed. I grab my bag and begin to stuff my favorite things. I open the safe he thought I didn’t know about. I grab my passport and most of the money that was laying neatly in stacks of $500 each. I slide my feet into my boots and head toward the stairs. Out the back door, I go. Freedom being the only plan in my mind. Asphalt beneath my feet, I feel free. I chose to go left, toward the sunset. I will go where he will never find me.
-End.-

I love writing, its beautiful.

My dad is turning 43 on the twenty second. I can’t believe it. Time flies so fast, really. Happy Early Birthday, Papi. Thank you for being our guardian angel. I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with, so thanks for putting up with me. You’re the coolest person I know.