Rev Writes!

black symbols dashing across the page- they have no meaning but the ones we give them, but their splashes are oh-so glorious. the power they hold is inconceivable, but they are so fleeting- there one day, gone the next. it is said, however, that they may last forever: you can never take them back, but oh, how we return them- faster speeds, more damage, the world's most deadly weapon. take them. use them wisely. craft them, sharpen their edges if you must. but oh gods please use them wisely.

I used to think you a black hole. Completely dark, and a parasite, not a positive trait about you. And lifeless, absolutely soulless. God, I was so very very wrong. You’re not just a black hole, you’re the night sky, a galaxy, the whole fucking universe . My whole universe. You’re not all darkness, like you want everyone to think. You’re riddled with stars, bright spots, like your humor, your pretty smile, your laugh. There are entire solar systems in the way you think, everything revolving and clicking so perfectly, so complex and mysterious but to you so natural, so easy. You’re so brilliant. And sure, there are dark points, negative space in the in-between. But honey, please believe me when I say this, that everything about you is beautiful. And frankly, I think God made a mistake when he hung the stars in the sky. He should’ve put all their glittering glory in your eyes. But that’s okay. You picked yourself up and put them there yourself.

Of broken mirrors and pixie dust the water shatters with light, bouncing diluted warmth from its mirror-like countenance. maybe that's why the world is so grey, she thinks as she sits upon the edge. if the ocean shines like a broken mirror always then that must be an entire eternity of bad luck, by now. she's not superstitious, but that's what she thinks. and if superstition was what the rest of the world believed, then who's to say it wasn't a self-fulfilling prophecy? belief holds power, strength. she knows that. that's why she didn't believe in anything, not even herself. she is weak. and as contradictory as that is, she believes that with certainty. .....she jumps. the birds around her fly to their own freedom, dancing on the wind the way the sun danced on the waters below.

the iciness of the air comes in through my nose, my mouth, and somehow, sets my insides aflame. no no no, i scream. it is silent, but in my mind, overwhelmingly unbearably loud; it's all i can hear, all i can think- gods no not again- because the cold- while i love it it sometimes does not love me. sometimes it fuels a fire within me that wants me to run, run as far as you can, go, get  a w a y - but there is no escape, and there shouldn't be. i must learn to live with the flames. so i let them burn me away to ash, knowing that soon, i would be whole again.