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i know what you're thinking. NO- it is not an acronym. Ily {ay-lee} is a name. Ilyism, is my religion btw. sorry, but THAT's how self-absorbed i am. FOLLOW ME!
of the love of all that is STRANGE and BEAUTIFUL<3
"Not that i'm downplaying the importance of any of these bits and pieces, mind you. It's just that in the grand scheme of things, they really shouldn't be a factor in whether you like me or not. I make lists. I used to punch walls. I can rock purple like nobody's business. When fed an embarassingly catchy pop song, would dance in public. I believe in the warmth of certain beverages. I have numerous quirks and for the lack of a better term, has personality."
-anonymous
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I let my bag slide down from my shoulders as soon as I reach the couch. I search for my parents and find that no one’s home. I immediately go to the study to search for the book. The book that I accidentally found 2 years ago and caused my mother to keep it here. Ever since that day, the features of the book and my mother’s fear remained safe and untouched inside my head. I always try to find the right time to search for it, but failed. After a few minutes of what seemed to be an endless search, I finally found it. I gently open the book and find pictures. Some which I think are painted by my father’s hands and designed with my mother’s handwriting. I turn each leaf over and every page unfolds a different story. Then I see a primrose in between. I hold it up and find my parents watching me. My mother has the same fear in her eyes. But my father holds her hand and leads her towards me. They tell their story. And now I understand. Why he clutches to things and holds on tight and why her nightmares never left her.
(Source: dhungergames, via mockingjaytribute)
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