17-year-old writer who hopes to write stories for a living someday-- failing that, I'd like to become a mermaid.
Lyrics of the Past, Present, and Future
“Waves” by Imagine Dragons https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anLxLPzgIG4 I’ve screamed this song riding on a bike down the street, way too fast, with stars glowing over my shoulder, my fist pumped into the air, and the orange of lamps mingled with the trees, bright as tiny suns. I’ve drummed this song onto my steering wheel and played it with the windows down to taste the air rushing in, mingling with the pounding rhythm of bass in the background. By now, it plays as easily as my heartbeat and its lyrics pattern my walls, and it makes the bad emotions entirely impossible in the very best of ways.
My heart was pounding so hard I felt it through the coverlets. I feared it would break out of my chest, so I bundled myself up in layers, hiding everything but my eyes so I couldn’t hear it ticking anymore and pressed my hands hard, hard, harder against the spot where I was alive— perhaps in an effort to stop the ache of living.
The Death of Old-Fashioned Dying
There are some nights meant to be dark and stormy, to fit the mood of the reader and the tone of the events destined to happen. A dark and stormy night is a powerful metaphor. One can liken the personality of a particularly shifty individual to that of a rainstorm, or can provide in the story an obstacle to overcome.