If she likes you, she’ll tell you.
If she’s hungry, she’ll eat.
No sugar-coated words or fake smiles from her teeth.
When her body craves motion, she’s quick on the move.
You know she’ll be dancing; You hope it’s with you.
American sweetheart with some spice to her sweet.
Apple pie on a Sunday where the fallen saints meet.
First came the glorious pack of discount colored pens. Felt tip. Vibrant by nature. Mmmm satisfaction.
I was blending and swirling ink as soon as I got the chance.
Next came a gift from my favorite person:
THE DAILY SKETCH JOURNAL. I like journals… and sketches. I like them daily.
Needless to say, I kissed my favorite person a lot that day. Then again, I kiss him a lot everyday.
And now here I am, pen in hand, sketching away. I love lines that are bold. Thick. Black. Unflinching. I also like cute owls and girly designs…. So here’s day 1 & 2:
It’s amazing what a blessing it is to add ink to paper. My mother used to tell me to count my blessing when I was sad, or homesick, or simply needed something nice to think about as I fell asleep. Pretty much, I was encouraged to always count my blessings. There are far too many to count, but for now, I’ll name just a few:
Paper, pens, love and a boy who encourages me to take hold of these blessings daily.
Drew up a quick design for the Charcoal Squids.
“We’re a four piece indie band based out of Moscow, Idaho. Hearty folk influences and nautical amounts of passion. Classic Pacific Northwest noise.”
Check them out at:
Facebook.com/charcoalsquids
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This is Chloe.
An ever-dramatic soul. Lover of theatre.
She has more passion than she knows what to do with, is always in motion, and is always ten steps ahead in her mind.
Also, she likes Star Wars.
And dance shoes.
When I asked what color she wanted to represent her eyes, she said “Gold” instantly.
Perfect.
She always is seeing shining lights… Stay gold, Chloe. ❤
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Sitting in bed, beer in hand, wishing away the time.
The beer would be better out of the bed,
And the bed would be better with a boy.
Sitting in bed, guitar in hand, wanting a little more time.
The song would be better on a stage instead,
And the bed would be better at night.
Holly Rose,
For every time you’ve been a friend to the underappreciated or the misunderstood.
For every time you’ve been expected to manage things on your own, because you’re the only one not complaining.
For every time you haven’t received the consideration you deserve because you’re the one considering everyone else.
For every time you’ve stood quietly by my side amidst a tangle of conversation and given me that smirk that says, “We will talk about this later.”
For every time you’ve seen what is unlovely in others and loved them all the more.
For each of these and all the rest, you are beautiful.
Even more beautiful than you appear.
where we will grow 