There is something to be said about the way in which a memory fades - like ink in water, rippling until it is no longer there.
It fades with the finality of a written ending, in way it leaves no room for further discussion; it simply vanishes.
And like ink in water, it is hard to catch before it leaves completely. It simply stains other memories, giving a gray veil
that wasn't there before. But its echo - that noise it made while it lived, forever remains in your brain.
~ Ely C. Winters.
Your favourite colourβs green. Real or not real?
there is a love in which i will always know you, just incase you forget.
love elizabeth s.
To be alive is to dance on the edge of oblivion, to feel the weight of existence pressing down upon us, even as we reach for the stars.
the comfort i find in the rain is kinda unreal
β’π§οΈπ©Άβ’
We are all stardust and storiesβ¨
πππππππ ππ πππ ππππ ππ πππππππππππ, ππππππ πππππ, πππ πππππ ππππππππ πππππ
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