#gp:

Salt:  ah little kraken, bold are you. restless sailor, dauntless fighter, lower your sword, let me see your shield. ah, of course, they are but the same object. oh wave-tossed ruffian, lend me some of your mettle would you? you have been struck by the sharpest of spears yet you still stand here proudly. but off your guard, elsewhere of the battlefield, you will find your spirit can parch others. your words are but weapons crafted from your soul. little lion, sheathe your claws, or the ones you love the most will suffer. you do not have to be strong all the time love, there's nothing wrong with being soft. vulnerability is not weakness, and if it were, what's wrong with that? strength is not always your greatest tool, your heart is good. put down excalibur, and use your words. you'll find they will carry you much farther. not everything in life is a battle.

Tagged by: @biolightning

The positive progress in India for Team Honda continued as Marc Marquez sent the crowd into a frenzy on his way to third in the Sprint Race while Joan Mir took positives from his strong start at the Buddh International Circuit during the Indian Grand Prix on Saturday. Afternoon rain hit the Indian Grand Prix, the MotoGP riders getting an extra ‘Wet Session’ to try the new circuit in the…

There was a little guilt and a lot of worry factored into this equation, and from the way Lydia saw it, the only possible solution was to be taken in quiet steps. 

She hadn’t meant to leave it where she had very much left it earlier, with Alex, and the cold of the bathroom stall with the metal latch indenting the small of her back. She’d wanted to take that whole situation to an entirely different place, initially-- but she was too in her head for it to work like that. She was too analytical. It ruined the whole mood for her. And even though she’d texted Alex and confirmed that everything was okay, that maybe even Alex understood, to some extent, why she’d stopped, why it’d probably been best that they’d stopped anyways, Lydia couldn’t help but feel like something was unresolved. It twisted itself, a restless knot, into the base of her stomach. She wouldn’t be able to focus with it just sitting there all night. 

She hadn’t meant to leave the house just then, sweater balled in her hands, keys stuffed into the back pocket of her low rises, taking the stairs one at a time with three-minute hesitations between every step, angled closer to the railing, the less creaky side. She knew if her parents found out (which they wouldn’t), if they decided to check on her at any time during the night (which they never did), it’d be beyond hell to explain, to work her way out of. One slip up, she had learned, could equal infinite disasters. 

But she knew how to be careful, and she convinced herself it was okay, doing this, as she slipped out the back door, slid into her car (which she had thankfully parked on the street), turned over the old engine and took the first block without headlights. A rebellious phase come late, experimentation come early. It was okay.

Lydia knew it was necessary for her to do this, she needed it, no matter how hard her heart thrummed, no matter the way she could feel it all just under her skin, itching and anxious. She thought maybe it’d ease by the time she pulled into Alex’s pitch driveway, but of course it hadn’t, of course not. 

She pulled the keys out of the ignition.