Color Me Amber

do you remember the first time you were called annoying? how your breath stopped short in your chest the way the light drained from your eyes, though you knew your cheeks were ablaze the way your throat tightened as you tried to form an argument that got lost on your tongue. your eyes never left the floor that day. you were 13. you’re 20 now, and i still see the light fade from your eyes when you talk about your interests for “too long,” apologies littering every other sentence, words trailing off a cliff you haven’t jumped from in 7 years. i could listen to you forever, though i know speaking for more than 3 uninterrupted minutes makes you anxious. all i want you to know is that you deserve to be heard for 3 minutes for 10 minutes for 2 hours forever. there will be people who cannot handle your grace, your beauty, your wisdom, your heart; mostly because they can’t handle their own. but you will never be and have never been “too much.”

so i’ve been taking photos for quite some time now but this

what if an ouija board was like an afterlife call center

It’s the little pieces of a friendship that make it special: when your friend sends you something that they say reminds them of you. Laughing hysterically with your best friend over something no one else thinks is funny. Knowing their house just as well as your own, or knowing their favorite cereal. I’d know my best friend’s laugh a mile away, and I can tell when she’s upset by the set of her shoulders. There are so many indescribable, unforgettable memories of lazy summer afternoons and movie nights, of trying disgusting new foods on a dare and laughing until it hurts. And there’s dancing in the car and wind in your hair, screaming your favorite song from five years ago at the top of your lungs. And though there are bad days, sad days, fighting days and crying days, there are perfect days, ones that you won’t remember in detail after a while, but days where you just felt inexplicably happy. And there’s a smile as familiar as your own, bright and bubbly and pure.

My favorite days are the ones I can never fully remember. They are hazy memories of happiness, of laughing with my best friend, of driving with the wind in my hair, of my favorite song on the radio. They are warm days, days of sunshine on my skin and a book I can’t put down. They are days that have no meaning to anyone but me, perfect, beautiful days when I was inexplicably happy to just simply be alive.