until spring comes again.

your possessiveness is really uncomfortable.

it's obvious to everyone around you that you feel the need to keep everything just the way you like it, and that insistence often borders on obsession. your persistence, materialism, and sentimentality can prevent you from ever letting things go, and the more you care about them, the more stubbornly you defend your right to own them forever. sorry to say, but there are some things, like memories and loved ones, you simply can't own, and trying to stake your claim over them just makes you seem unbalanced and creepy. it probably wouldn't hurt to quit being such a hoarder, too - none of your guests enjoy trying to find a seat in a room piled high with reminders of everything you refuse to let die.

tagged by: @honbears  //  thank  you~

bold  what  applies  to  your  muse     /    italicize what is verse dependent ! repost,  don’t  reblog  !

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑.     a chill right down to the bones.    tobogganing.    teeth chattering.    sleeping all day.    sitting by the fireplace.    spending time with family.   layered clothing.   seeing another’s breath.   loving the cold.    a state of inactivity.    cold hands.   blistering winds shaking the closed windows.   a bookcase full of brand new books and all of the time in the world to read them.    cable knit socks.   a bitter remark.   a log cabin in the middle of nowhere.   hating the cold.    full length windows to peer out of.    pale skin.    deep conversations.    watching the snow fall.    sharp edges.   hot cocoa.   smelling every candle in the store.    a wild snow storm.    melancholy.  lighting candles around the bathtub.    snow globes.    expressing yourself but never finding quite the right words.    the softest of blankets.   liking, but not loving something or someone.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆.     the smell after it rains.   being in control of yourself.   a soft breeze blowing your hair.    lightning when it strikes.    cherry blossoms.    bright mornings.  the first sign of hope.    the relief of finding something you lost.    paris in the spring.   birds chirping.   the art of growing.    a kiss on the cheek.  the clap of thunder.    a tornado in the valley.    smiling at a stranger.    planning.   saccharine pinks.    making promises.    trying something new.    hugs when you need them most.    a bee sting.    sitting on the steps of the met.    coming inside drenched from the thunderstorm.   picnics on a red checkered blanket in the new sun.   that feeling you get when you put on a good dress.    a long hike.    rushing when you can take your time.    going to the gym at ungodly hours.    excitement for what’s coming.   becoming yourself.    rain boots.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑.     lanterns lit around a campfire.   seeing the sunrise like its the first time again and again.    melting ice cream.    the warmth of sun rays upon skin.   fireworks.  the feeling of never wanting something to end.    beach days.    the lone blow up floaty left in the pool, drifting with the warm nights breeze and nothing else.    music blasting at 3am, loud and proud.    palms trees on sunset boulevard.   longer days and shorter nights.   wanderlust.     nights spent staring at the stars.     sand castles.    road trips.   blood orange sunsets.   leaving the laundry to hang outside.    flowers in bloom.  sneaking out of your room late at night.   pure contentment.    barefoot in the sand.   the street lights coming on.    the sound of the ocean in a seashell.    freshly squeezed lemonade.     loose clothing.    a cannonball into the pool.     sunflowers.    the hazy pink before dusk.    relaxation.

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋.   the leaves changing colors.    a heavy backpack.   the smell of old books.    eating until you’re stuffed.    deep, dark woods.   the silence in loudness.   abandoned houses.   ripped jeans.  crunching leaves beneath feet.   feeling like you’ve been somewhere before.   sitting at a bay window.    having endless amount of homework.    charcoal drawings.    screaming into a pillow as loud as you can.   pumpkin patches.    creaky floorboards.   accepting that some things do have to change.  museums.    small talk.    being ignored.    procrastinating.   a door slamming shut.    going to bed early.   baking pies.   the fear of walking alone in the dark.    feeling completely and terribly lost.   a twig snapping.    crisp, cool days.    belly laughter after crying.    converse.    foggy mornings at the shoreline.    writing a daily entry in a journal.   a lonely day.

Trust was a string Ara tied tight between herself and the small world she had created around herself. She knotted once, twice, three times, making sure the binds would never slip off. Pinky promises were common practice in her world, but never did she think one would cross their fingers behind their back while speaking sweet nothings to her face. Never did she think she would be put in a situation where her entire reality would be flipped onto its head. To see the sweetest of the girls, whom she believed to be one of the most naïve of the girls, in a place that smelled of sweat and men was not how she had planned to spend her night. She barely remembers the real reason she had come here, but it definitely did not consist of tearing a mask away from one of her best friends.

She hates crying in public.

So she presses the back of her palms against her face, violently wiping away the tears that rolled down to her chin. However, the more she pawed at her face, the worse it got. She couldn’t hold it back, not when a plethora of emotions had swallowed her whole. The blonde was unsure of what hurt more, the betrayal she felt seeing the second life of the younger unfold before her or the sheer lack of trust her friend had in her. Both in the past, enough to hide such a big secret, and in the present, as she continued to assure Ara she was wrong.

With fingers curled into fists at her side, she shook her head rapidly, tresses whipping against skin. This time she’s not shouting because she wants to be heard, but because she can’t handle the assumptions thrown in her direction. She wanted to scream and shout and yell till her voice was sore and she finally got through to Eunha. “Don’t fucking tell me what I’d do! You never even gave me the option to see you like this. You never gave me the option to stay by your side or walk away.” There’s poison rolling off her tongue now as her anger piques and her frustrations get the best of her words. The heat of the moment got the best of her as she threw her hands up in disbelief.

“Yeah, you’re right. Cause that’s what I am, right? A bitch who just drops everyone like flies as if she doesn’t have her own demons to hide.” She takes a second to catch her breathe before her voice softens, vision blurring from the tears welling up in her eyes. “How could you even think like that? Do you even know me Eunha?”

[ sms : 은 🍯  ] you’ve dreamt about me…? and drew me? [ sms : 은 🍯  ] emoji.gif [ sms : 은 🍯  ] now i don’t feel so weird thinking about you and dreaming about you all the time (´꒳`∗) [ sms : 은 🍯  ] wait that sounded kind of weird [ sms : 은 🍯  ] ANYWAY //// oh i still have my (candyless) ring pop in my memory box somewhere. you probably lost yours since it was so long ago. [ sms : 은 🍯  ] rest in peace, grandma lee. i would have loved to meet you! then i would have told you how amazing and absolutely perfect your granddaughter is!!!! [ sms : 은 🍯  ] how are you good at everything?? is2g 은, some 200cm tall super muscular mr. macho guy is gonna steal you from me one day and i’ll die a dusty raisin. [ sms : 은 🍯  ]  emoticon.gif [ sms : 은 🍯  ] man im getting sleepy. by becoming a model do you mean /yourself/? you’re much more suited than me. i mean look at your perfectly symmetrical baby face! [ sms : 은 🍯  ] hotdamn.png [ sms : 은 🍯  ] and those sultry lips!! dual charm af. have you ever noticed the freckle under your left eye? it’s my favorite. so tempting. [ sms : 은 🍯  ] ….is it weird that i save all of your selfies? idk why but i like keeping them. unless that makes you uncomfy then i’ll get rid of ‘em ;;

voice  meme.  // always  open.  //  @suvireum

i  hope  i’m  interpreting  this  question  correctly  (  i  know  it’s  simple  but  i  like  to  overthink  things  &&  question  my  english  skills  )!

i  can’t  really  pinpoint  a  specific  source  really  –  it  just  hits  me  randomly,  which  is  likely  attributed  to  my  very  particular  standards  /  expectations  for  my  writing.  it’s  unfortunate  because  i  really  don’t  want  to  keep  people  waiting  for  so  long,  but  at  the  same  time,  i  don’t  want  to  push  out  a  half-hearted  reply.  but  from  what  i’ve  noticed,  i  generally  tend  to  find  inspiration  more  frequently  at  night.  occasionally  i’ll  get  some  from  watching  edits,  listening  to  music,  reading  books,  looking  at  pictures  on  pinterest,  or  reading  people’s  threads  (  rare,  but  sometimes  i’ll  even  read  the  replies  i’m  somewhat  proud  of  ).  it  doesn’t  work  all  the  time  for  me  –  a  hit  or  miss  –  but  it  helps.  i  find  reading  /  listening  to  pretty  writing  sparks  the  urge  to  write.  i  personally  love  binging  poetry  slam  vids.  i’ve  also  noticed  that  i  write  best  when  i’m  not  busy  most  of  the  week  lol.  this  seems  like  a  given,  but  when  i  have  to  do  stuff  /  go  places  3  -  5  days  every  week,  i  will  hardly  have  any  will  or  inspiration  to  write.  

voice  meme.  // always  open.  //  @obciidian

voice  meme.  //  always  open.  //  @maginoire

pole  dancing  &&  stripping  are  often  synonymous  with  each  other,  &&  yes,  eunha  does  some  minor  stripping  during  her  performances  (  i  realize  that  i’ve  contradicted  a  previous  statement  in  the  past  saying  that  she  doesn’t,  but  after  conducting  some  more  research  &&  some  contemplation,  this  has  changed  ).  it’s  very  hard  for  her  to  come  up  with  a  new  routine  every  time  to  keep  the  audience  captivated  –  after  all,  there’s  only  so  much  you  can  do  on  the  pole.  she  does  bare  some  skin  in  order  to  remedy  that,  although  not  nearly as  much  as  other  dancers.  but  it’s  part  of  her  appeal  –  teasingly  prurient  dancing  &&  jaw-dropping  flexibility,  yet  prudish  when  it  comes  to  revealing  skin.  it’s  her  true  self  seeping  through.  :’)  &&  while  she  has  the  option  to  do  private  dances,  she’s  one  of  the  few  who  doesn’t.