randaline11

My favorite number used to be 29. Not because there's 29 ways to say I love you, or 29 reasons why New York is the best place to live, or because 29 was the name of last year's best-selling clothing line. No, I liked 29 because that was the number of millions of stars I estimated I saw when I looked out my favorite window at night. And 29 was the number of dollars in my savings account (because somebody somewhat related to me thought my future happiness was worth saving and therefore traded the value of 29 pairs of socks at the dollar store for a Christmas gift that most likely made him feel better about himself). 29 was the number of

My Soldered Rainbow Tell us about an intellectual experience, either directly related to your schoolwork or not, that you found particularly meaningful. My programming mentor once told me that perfection does not mean being perfect; rather, it is something affected by attitude. It profoundly changed my outlook on what constitutes a healthy lifestyle-- so much so that afterwards those close to me noticed physical changes. I wrote this poem to him in response, and plan to give it as a present at the end of this year's Build Season. I'd always wanted to touch the sky-- to be weightless. I thought if all the clouds could float I could float

Manic?     Depressive. Sadness?     Aggressive. Alcoholic?     Melancholic. Anxious?     Hyperbolic. Sweetheart....     Ok.     Today. Survive.     Alive.     :)? :).

There  are 29 reasons why I shouldn't Be here, As I need to Breathe so much more than Everyone Else. Yet, When I exhale I illuminate the Dust in the air. My baby stars glowing, floating Away I take in more. I dream.

I danced with the clock tonight, borrowing batteries from the minutehand and searching for that perfect timing in someone else’s poem before the clock struck midnight and 1 A.M. and 2 A.M. and hell, maybe even 3 A.M. but it wasn’t there and You weren’t there either so I returned them and closed my eyes and picked through all the dandelions in Dreamland and found a little one that would work for us and ripped it from its home in the ground only to watch 10,000 Mary Poppins fly away before I could let them go. So I opened my eyes again, seeking the likes of You in the filament of that damn light bulb up at the tippy top of