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A Gandy Girl

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The Bridge of Silver Wings
John Wiltshire
Progress: 15 %
Conscious Decisions of the Heart (More Heat Than The Sun Book 2)
John Wiltshire
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Broken Pieces
Riley Hart
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Indra Vaughn, Leta Blake
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fawn - Nash Summers Oh. My. God. What else has this woman written??? I mean I loved "Maps" but I have to say this exceeded that on many levels. This is absolutely beautiful. I'm in love. ❤️❤️❤️

Status Updates:

Since the first day I’d laid eyes on him, I’d been watching him, studying his movements, embedding the curves of his face to my memory. And each time I looked at him, he wasn’t looking at anyone else. We were all ghosts to him, figments of his imagination, maybe, just blurs on the surface of the planet that he had to move around and weave through.
But that was all right. I didn’t mind being invisible to him as long as I was still allowed to watch him walk through the field and run his fingers through the grass.

How could this have happened? How could he have been so careless? Didn’t he know how precious he was— how important it was that he keep himself safe? He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever dreamed about, and yet he was covered in angry patterns that reminded me of how very human he was.
I'm in love with this. ❤️❤️❤️

It was almost springtime, and I wished I could profess my undying love of spring like everyone else in Heaven, but it just wasn’t true. I loved spring, sure, but I loved the frost of winter, and the leaves of fall, and the unbridled heat of summer. I couldn’t pick a favorite season any more easily than I could pick a favorite song, or a favorite smell. Everything was beautiful in its own way— you just had to look close enough.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.
Like magic— like the earth had heard my cries and the sky had known my deepest desires, he was there.

It was an installation piece— a large, circular hoop that was wrapped with natural, brown pieces of leather. In the center, I’d corded a web with light blue string, and on each thread hung feathers, gems, stones, a few twigs, and bones. When the art teacher first looked at it, he thought it was a dream catcher. I didn’t like that word: dream catcher. Why would I want to catch dreams? Dreams should be free to wander and explore, learning where they belong and to whom. I’d never want to hold something so precious in my hands.

“I’m sorry, Ancel,” I said softly as I pressed the elevator button to take me to the ground floor. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. And I was hoping you felt it too."
Oh. My. God. *hold back tears at a family function* *dying*

That field I’d loved so much represented everything that had broken my heart. It was where I’d first realized that I liked boys, where I’d written countless, pointless letters, where I’d had my first kiss, where I’d fallen in love, where my heart was first broken…
I am so in love with this.