Dear anyone watching from the shadows,

I am nineteen years alive and live in one of the most ‘beautiful’ areas in the world. Especially during that mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between summer and winter that just so happens to be my favorite time of year. Chilly air, whistling wind, and rain that smells like memories.

Sometimes, I like to lie awake at night listening to the pitter-patter of raindrops on my roof. Sometimes, the sky is so clear that I can see the far blue edge of forever behind distant mountains. Sometimes, I see shooting stars out of the corner of my eye like falling glitter. Sometimes, I think if we lived to be 200-300 years old the clouds would spin a lot faster. Sometimes, I think the mountains are sucking away at my soul.

I used to wake up in the middle of the night and take photographs, pictures of things that represented the things I could never find the words to express. Often times I would wonder if the message was ever lost in the translation.

I thought it was. That’s why I stopped doing it. I would rather it be lost somewhere in my own head where it can be properly appreciated.

I guess you could say I’m a dreamer. I like anything pretty, witty, or wise; and captivating and emotional art inspires me. I am 2/3 free, and the other 1/3 ‘unfree’ side of me doesn’t even matter that much. I believe in magic, and people, and pinkie promises, and I’m kind of in love with the whole damn world–or at least I used to be. I like flaws and feel more comfortable around people who have them. And when it comes down to it, I don’t want everything to add up to a perfect equation. I want mess and chaos. I want someone to go crazy out of his mind for me. I want to do something wild and reckless. I want to feel passion and heat and madness. I want it all. And I don’t really know where I’m going; but I want to go far.

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