some rambling from my sketchbook;

if a single person can influence your course of life
whether by inspiration, admiration or conversation,
doesn't that make us all connected?
think about the amount of people that you have allowed to inspire change in your life.
it is undeniable that we are interwoven.
we. not just you and me. not just you and him or you and her.
we. as in the entire world.
we are       all one.
you are not alone.

Potential

There are three types of volcanoes: active, dormant, and extinct.
Dormant ones fascinate me the most. They are asleep. They are deciding whether to burst or to die. To become active or to become extinct.
To create a massive explosion of lava and cover the earth with ash, or to harden into rock and crumble over time.
You see, what these dormant volcanoes have is potential.
Potential frightens me, truly.
Mostly because it is completely in your control. It is all you have to offer. It is all you have to give, and it's dormant. It's asleep.
You can make your potential come alive or you can let it go.
You can let it burst and spread it through the whole world, or you can let it wither away inside of you.
You are dormant. Will you push yourself to become active, or allow yourself to become extinct?

Where Light Meets Dark

Nobody ever talks about the sun as it sits at its peak in the sky
When it's the brightest and highest it will ever be
because something else steals the show:
the build-up and break-down of the peak of it's trail
when the sun sinks and emerges from the horizon
with bursts of color that lasso your eyes in
that make you want to climb a mountain just to see it differently, or force yourself out of bed so you can catch every second of it

Nobody ever talks about the times where you have it all right
When you're the brightest and highest you'll ever be
because something else steals the show:
the build-up and break-down of you're prime moment
where your light emerges or your darkness takes over
those times that you'd give anything to go back to and stay in forever
and those times that you'd give anything to forget

The reason these moments supersede the rest
is because everyone loves a little color
and don't you see,
you're the sun.
magnificent in the ways you can cast light and allow darkness
and the most bold when you can't decide between which you want to do
because the brightest colors happen
where light meets dark.

February 12th

Each second, our chests rise and fall as we breathe in and out with predictability. So how can we expect our lives to be any different. We build up everything to that one moment of perfection and then it all seems to fall. But sure enough, it will rise again.
Except
for these times where our hearts beat fast and our breath seems to stop, proving to us that perfection can last for more than just a moment.
And that's what I want to live for.
The times that my heart beats wild and my rhythmatic breath loses its rhythm and the peak of perfection becomes a flatline.

Pencils Shouldnt Exist

I've got post upon post of edited, rewritten and revised writing. This ones a little different. I've been wanting to post this for a while, but typing took away the entire meaning.
So here it is, the first and only draft. October 16th.

Lucy

My ankles wobbled on the slick ice, the cold seeped through my layers like water, and I couldn’t help but smile. She stood there dressed in yellow from her snow pants to her hat, and I watched her eyes, fearless and bright, as I urged her onto the ice. She ran towards it like a firework to the night sky, skidding and shaking and then smacking the surface like that final grand pop of color. She sprawled all fours out and didn’t make a sound.
“Lucy!” I slid my way across the ice, my hands waving in the air trying to keep my balance. When I reached her I frantically shook her shoulder, trying to bring her back to consciousness. Then I heard that infamous giggle and saw her face widen with a grin.
“Gotcha!” she said, as she reached her yellow-mitten hands up to me. I ground my teeth and laughed along with her.
“You know that really wasn’t funny, Lucy.”
She raised her eyebrows and grinned a little more, “Then why’d you laugh?” I just shook my head as I grabbed hold of her hands and lifted her to her feet.
She looked at me with those fearless and bright eyes, “Danielle?”
“Yeah, Luce?”
“Do you know how to skate?”
I smirked a little, “No, not really.”
She giggled and shook her head at that, “Yeah, me neither.” Then she wiped the ice and wetness off of her snow pants, and when she started to wobble she reached out her hands and clung to me. It threw off my balance, but I had I recover it fast so that neither of us would fall. As we weaved our way across the ice, I could tell she was getting the hang of it, and I was too. Whenever she felt uneasy or off balance, she would grab onto me and after a second or two she would let go of me to skate on her own. Each time she did that, she got better and better until eventually the both of us were gliding with ease. We skated all around until the sun started to go down.
She made her way over to me, till she was skating along side me, “Danielle?”
“Yes, Luce?”
“Do you know how to skate now?”
“I’d say so, yeah. Do you know how to skate now?”
She giggled at this, “Of course I do, Danie—”
In the middle of the sentence, as quickly as she started to wobble, she smacked the ice yet again.
“Ow…” she said as with a sigh.
I cringed at the sound, “Guess you don’t know how, huh, Luce?”
She raised an eyebrow at me, popped right back up without any help, and effortlessly glided into the distance. Lucy cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted into them with the intensity of a firework shooting up towards the sky, “Just cause I fell down doesn’t mean I can’t skate, it just means I’m learning how, Danielle!!” The phrase exploded into the hills surrounding us and the colors of it sank into my mind like it would into the blackness of the sky.
I smiled at her and shouted, “You’re right, Lucy. You’re right.” Because she was. I had never heard a truth as simple and forward as that. And from that night on, sparks flew in my mind as I remember that whenever I fell, I knew it wasn’t because I was incapable of doing something, but rather because I was still learning how.

Worlds

everybody has a secret world inside of them
all the people of the world, i mean everybody
no matter how dull and boring they are on the outside,
inside them they've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful,
stupid, amazing worlds.
not just one world. hundreds of them.
thousands, maybe.
-Niel Gaiman

we're so good at creating our own worlds
ones to share with the few that take the time to discover them
ones to tuck away in the dark parts of your mind, that explode in color and life when you close your eyes
ones full of bits and pieces of what your eyes have seen and warped and made beautiful
ones that, unlike the real world, give us reasons to live for