I’ve been on creative mode quite a while now for today  (what’s a best way to celebrate finishing 1st year of college? lmao -) I thought of ... Oliviers ancestor that happens to be a witch, and I believe he would have some underground domain with a variety of rooms. One of the rooms happening to be aquarium, which is something I’m currently working on making the territory as deep to my satisfaction. Already made a main underground room where I’ve yet to think what I’ll put it out, but at least made extra doors that lead to a corridor - that will lead to the very aquarium and a planned “monster zoo” or something along the lines. Other types of rooms aren’t on my mind yet so... The other things are pretty big projects as it is;;

i want to write then i don't because once i start i can't stop, like right now, like idea after idea after idea, like urgency, like you, like me, like now, like divergent thinking, like they way you look at me, like the way i can't let you do that because, i promise i see the world through a shattered lens that i'm not going to fix because it's broken but it reflects light in a design only i can see and i wouldn't change that for anybody. not everything is a smile or has a smile or needs a smile or is lined with fucking silver there's a lot of things right now that haven't ever seen anything fucking shine and i can't smile about it. i can only cry. i can only cry and scream but i can't scream because i don't scream so i scream in other forms. and so i move and write and stop, silent. you watch. i let you. we go to barnes and noble and i'm carrying stacks of books on the criminal mind, sociopaths, kids who kill, forensic methods of investigation, the nazis, prison psychology and systematic slavery, rapists and serial killers, school shootings, i can't stop i've been reading this stuff since i could hold a book. it always lights up in the dark. why and why and why, i couldn't tell you. not everything can be fixed and it won't. do i let you get under my skin because there isn't gold all the time? or do you challenge me? do i want to be challenged? do i want to be wrong? over 120 children were murdered in pakistan there is no happiness there. i can't pretend to find any. i can't be that. i can be shattered and whole and that is all i can give to you but you want it. you want to listen to every single word, every breath, every word and breath i don't take, every place my eyes skip over when i stop making eye contact with you, every laugh when there is yet again something else that just. fits our puzzle. i want to fucking put together the puzzle high and laughing and twirling on the ground reading poetry aloud in british accents post fuck. should i even go there? the place where i reject and get nervous and close the door because i feel like you won't know what the fuck you're doing when you fuck me and i literally can't tolerate when someone doesn't? i'm starting to think somebody like you, as a whole human being, as who will sit and read books for me for hours, just absolutely that, and walk and talk and coffee and want to do everything and say everything and i can SAY anything, laugh at everything, i'm beginning to think this and a guy who can fuck me senseless likethat seeing stars forgetting vowels words english space time bruises scratches godlike type shit doesn't exist in the same person and that terrifies some stunning part of me because of april because i want to know i still can and am allowed to because that's never really gone anywhere except for when i cried with you and you waited, late. i just. i do and do not know what i want and this could never end but. but i like dangerous i like risky i like we probably shouldn't do this i like breaking rules i like fucking where we aren't supposed to when we aren't supposed to i like recklessness i like imperfection i like black i like no trespassing i like trespassing i like adrenaline i like testing my limits until my limits are begging me to fucking stop i like what isn't good, you want to be everything everything absolutely good and i am not. i am questioning always questioning and wanting to be the extraordinary because i can't be anything less and i used to make myself bleed and sometimes i still do and i used to feel balanced and golden when empty and fuck i still do and i used to feel high as a kite when i shouldn't and i still fucking do that to and i cry on steps or in my car a lot, over things i don't know how to begin to sketch for anyone because the last time i tried he really just wanted to fuck and hell so did i and god that all started so fucking young and i had no idea. it all did, didn't it? we all did.

He can say that from here on out, this boy's going to be okay.