Mindera

Time to think. To write. To bleed. Life is like a cup of tea, I’ve had it many a times and I’m just getting used to the taste now. It seems almost sour sometimes. Like, the bitterness inside your heart is slowly growing inside you. In your mind, in your arms, on your tongue. The sweetness has faded. But the taste hasn’t. It’s still there. Reminding you, it’s time to write. It’s time to take a chance on something you gave up on. It’s time to think. Time to think about everything you’ve done good; stop focusing on the bad. Yes, I do know that everything is falling apart. Your family and friends, your life

It’s been days. Days of staring at that mirror. Days of wanting it to end. She’s had time. Time to think. Time to bleed. Time to die inside. The world to her is like sand on a beach. One minute it’s there then the next the waves have washed some of it away. It’s a fleeting being, the world, that is. It’s here one moment then gone the next. She doesn’t like that, though. She wishes it would stay. Stay with her and say that everything’s going to be okay. Even if she knows it’s not. She knows that everything’s not going to be okay. Because everything and everyone is like the sand running through her f

My tears are too pathetic for anyone to see. So I sit here and cry out all the memories. Goodbyes to sad and way to crazy. So I’ll sit here and pray to a god who may not exist. “Wanna die, wanna die?” the shadows ask. Yes, I really do. But the people around me are too blind to see it. The fact that I’m suffering inside, why don’t you believe me? These pills you make me throw down my throat, what do they help? Nothing.

Sometimes I sit here and cry, others I sit here and die. They say I have no future, I don’t think I can prove them wrong. When life gets tough I don’t back down but I still cry when they’re not around. My life has never been perfect but I try to picture it that way. I try to picture a life where I have a family that doesn’t scream or shout. These thoughts in my head cannot be my own. For I have to act strong because I cannot atone. These sins I have committed cannot possibly be forgiven. Although I do thank you for all that you have given.

   As Alec approached Magnus' flat, he noticed pale streams of sickly colored white smoke pouring out from under the door. Panic bubbled up inside his chest as he drew out his seraph blade. He gripped the handle tightly and whispered its name as he reached for the doorknob.    "Ithuriel," the blade jumped to life at the sound of its name and glowed a dim blue. Alec opened the door. A thick cloud of smoke soon enveloped him and he began to cough violently as he jerked the hem of his shirt up over his mouth. He hurried inside, raced over to the nearest window and threw it open. After taking in a few big gulps of fresh air, he pocketed his bla