The Distance Is Daring; Oh, the Young and Reckless Love It So

In his perfect story, there are the torn pages - stained by the actions of the ruthless heartbreaker and with the saline of the heartbroken. In her perfect story, there are the pages of enchantment - abundant with the moments no lover's soul could ever allow to escape their minds. In their perfect story, there is the unbelievable - these pages full of inked hope and promise. The one thing we must remember is everyone's perfect story falls together as one like the pieces of a puzzle. What makes these stories so undeniably fascinating is not that in the end they are all intertwined, but yet the idea that not one of them is the same. No piece of the same puzzle is identical, and for this we must all create our own perfect stories to fit into the big picture of everything we already know. I've discovered something wondrous about my perfect story; in my perfect story is you. We all make mistakes, and we all say things we regret and wish so much we could take back, but after all is said and done there will always still be someone there who finds you remarkable. Within me, you can search for, find, and see that.

Oh, the distance may be daring, but nothing worthwhile will ever be right before your eyes.

Little White Balloon - It's Slipping Through My Little Insignificant Fingers

Her past, it's bleeding into her disguised imperfect present. The flawless image the present was so beautifully painting itself before her eyes as being has all been a ruthless lie. She should have been anticipating, expecting, knowing this was going to happen. No matter how perfect her life may seem at any one moment in time, the car crash of emotions is not far away. Although, it is far enough away that it is hidden among the city lights and traffic jams - lurking. She's dazed and confused; her puzzled expression tells us so. Everything she knew and loved is slipping from her fingertips. Control is no more. Oil and water, that is what the people in her life are slowly, but without doubt becoming. In a way you could say these are the moments that hold the most luminous beauty of life - the inescapable, enchanting disaster. We are someone, and sometimes that someone changes, or rather the people that make us that someone change. When what makes you everything you ever thought you were leaves, believing you can remain the same is a fantastical delusion of fantasy. You can't. When those people decide to change, you're forced to comply and change whether you know it or not. We are constantly changing. The only problem is, change comes with a price.

That balloon, it made her soar.

God's Own Teardrops Danced Upon My Fragile Fingertips

Today on my way home from school, my lack of concentration caused me to miss my bus stop. The typical dreaded thought of the fact my walk home would be twice as long because of my foolish mistake flooded my mind. In all honesty, I can't say I was even the least bit thrilled about the thought of having to be walking home in the melancholic excuse for april weather we had today. As I made my way past the main road's traffic and into the side streets of suburbia, a realization hit me. I can't quite be sure if it was an accident of nature or one of faith, but despite the buckets of water drenching my hair and clothes, the rain put me in a serene state of peace with the world. Rain drops are the marionettes of God; they wash away the illusion we build ourselves up to be with the paint of want, fear, regret. Maybe if we took more time to take in the moment, the past would fade away into vivid nothingness - a distant echo. If we're always living in the cobwebbed memories of the past, the true beauty of life will forever be masked from our eyes.

Always feel, for not everything can be seen or heard.