What would we do in this world if it weren't for the dreams ahead? Thorns are mixed with beautiful flowers no matter which path we follow.
There is something out there for me. Something great. Something that will feed the curiosity that sits inside my soul. Something that is patiently waiting for me to feed it's hunger. I don't know where you are or what you are, but I'm on my way.
There are spots in the heart that never seem to mend, they stay slightly altered by moments in life; Scars remain, they remain as little stories that then pump through our veins becoming a part of who we are; as we carry the memories of the past with us, lessons go unlearned and others mould our lives.
We find the things we love and things we don't love.
I want to roll around with the romantic flirtation between my mind and the piece of paper; I want to sip cocktails with words and love the spaces between paragraphs. I want to lay awake between the sheet thinking of the next word on the page. I want to write until the paper is gone. I want to write on the walls, on the long wooden planks on the floor.