A Penny For Your Thoughts
A collection of snippets that never made it into a proper post but are still worth reading. Enjoy!
Sometimes you just can't write something because it needs to be said out loud. Written words may last longer but the power of a voice can really make people listen. A part of me doesn't want to accept that. A part of me just wants to write all of my problems down in the hope that they will magically disappear. But that can only happen if I talk to someone about them. Out loud. But if I do, it will suddenly become all too real and i will no longer be able to run away from them.
Is my blue your blue? Is my blood red of a dying sun the same as everyone else's? Everyones eyes are different. Everyone thinks differently. So how do we know that everyone sees the world exactly the same as us? The answer is we don't. We all have the same perception of blue but our blue is ours alone. I think there is something special in the fact the way that I see the world is completely unique.
The rain pounded against the glass in a desperate attempt to escape the heavens. They were everyday fallen angels. She wondered what was happening above the clouds to make them flee so suddenly.
She wanted to meet someone in a bookshop. They would accidentally brush hands reaching for the same book and then get caught up in a deep and meaningful conversation about certain characters and plots. They wouldn't realise how much time had gone by, having to leave very soon but exchanging numbers in order to meet again.
But it would never happen; such romances only happened in the books she read because they were too fanciful to exist in real life. The irony in this was that all book characters thought that until they bumped into the mysterious yet alluring figure that turned their world upside down.
Her window was filthy. A giant imprint of a pigeon spread across the middle pane and an equally large skid mark accompanied it. She swore the pigeons were mocking her, soiling her car and windows and making creepy pigeon love right in front of her. It was as if they were blatantly mocking her, making her very aware of her very single life. Heck, if Mr. Fatso Scruffy-neck had a better love life then her, she knew she was doing something wrong.
