“His skin sparkles like beach sand his eyes dancing endlessly with the sun for when his light embraced my darkness, I then understood why people prefer summer over winter.”

My headspace is a playground and I’m still delayed in its construction.

I am not sorry for the way I love. I am only sorry for loving people who haven’t a clue on how to love themselves.

If there’s no struggle, you haven’t struggled yet.

For being still can either bring one clarity or chaos. You decide what the silence is worth.

I no longer seek the love I think I deserve but rather the love I’ve always deserved.

I love the little things in life but when it comes to me, why do I find those little things about myself hard to love? I am everything I need.

I was in love with my own chaos, gripping tightly onto fantasies, falling into traps that swallowed me whole. I am in awe of how chaotic I am, as falling hard into my own trap saved me from who I became.

Are you only surrounding yourself with people because they add to your life or are you filling a void?

The beauty in the suffering is not the lack of love they have, it’s the depth of love they swam into that drowned them among their highest waters.

We start looking for approval from strangers when we feel we can’t approve of ourselves.

We are perfectly imperfect human beings.

If I were a garden and the seed were my soul, thus blooming is a process but I’m impatient.

You can’t appreciate the sunshine if you’ve never stood in the rain.

The wind tickles my skin trees bend back and forth sunlight kisses the earth and yet with no sound at all, I hear everything. I am peace.

People who do not make room to love you, simply do not make room to love themselves.

The lava that erupts from the volcanoes has been reoccurring for far too long and even tho I’ve been warned that my lava can burn others I can’t help but erupt at the possibility that someone will want to burn for me.

Zidane is unique. The ball flows with him. He is more like a dancer than a football player.

She danced with nature for she knew she was never alone.

I do a first draft as passionately and as quickly as I can. I believe a story is valid only when it’s immediate and passionate, when it dances out of your subconscious. If you interfere in any way, you destroy it.

She danced in the moonlight knowing they shared the same song.

You are the thunderstorm warning and I’m dancing in acid rain.

She spoke with so much hope, the future dancing on her lips like a flame.

Double up, baby. Your lips are the song and the dance floor is our bed.

Always remember, you will live, you will love, you will dance again.