This is the only lonely picture

Waiting on my floor, littering my shore. This is the last true burning letter given to a girl,

written by a boy living in a world created to destroy.

Quadfest was amazing. I feel summer tingling from the tips of fingers to the tips of my toes.

I have escaped wonderland, but I am positive I will eventually return. Maybe summer will

become a new strange version of wonderland. This seems like a hard concept to grasp because

wonderland is always strange. It's a place to escape, so why do I feel the need to fall down

a rabbit hole one day, but crave real sunlight within twenty-four hours?

I have so much to learn about myself. Optimism is the only way to persevere and I have proven

to myself that my persistence will pay off in the long run.

Celebrate

Happy holidays everyone!

A Grin Without A Cat

"..it's the most curious  thing I have seen in all my life."

It's common rationality, so please just ask me for my answer. I will always measure my phrases, and I will do so while tipping the scales of reality. I learned my lesson, it is cold to sing songs to a troubled heart.

Today, someone stopped me mid-conversation and said "Ashley, stop and look around you." I would normally pay no attention, but lately I have exceptionally curious. People are falling to pieces. They expect me to believe that it doesn't mean they're despondent. Truth is stranger than fiction, but in my portrait of a landscape their heartache is completely out of place.

It's like the Walrus said, "the time has come, to talk of many things." So why now can we talk about shoes and ships- and sealing wax, and cabbages and kings? I will forever be awed and inspired by the mystery of things, but it is learning how to live a life with out being distracted by these prominent mysteries that I can not do.

For now, I'm painting my life in yellows and greens, and my dreams are filled with conversations taking place between myself and the Walrus. Conversations asking why the sea is boiling hot, and questioning whether pigs have wings. The yellows and greens are masking the greys quite remarkably, there is no grey in wonderland.

I'm overwhelmed with thoughts of fantasy, and the last thing I crave is reality. It's probably just my heart hallucinating. It's been known to take a monster and turn it into something so alluring, so divine.

Why be exposed to the bitter taste of reality, when fantasy is placed before you, sweet as sugar?

I would prefer to stay in my wonderland. If you need me; fall down the hole and listen to the curious grin without a cat. You will find me drinking tea with the Mad Hatter, longing to talk to that damn Walrus.

And I Thought To Myself

"How can so much good

Exist in such a tiny heart

Despite of all the pain she's in

She never falls apart

And if she doesn't last the length of seven songs

She dries her tears on her best friend's sleeves and dances right along"

I'd like to know where some people think they get all their power to control other people's lives. I suppose it was my fault for making the mistake of not helping a friend before this had a chance to start; maybe I should have seen where it was going to end up. I won't let other people be dragged into something that they don't deserve to be dragged into. I've never been a fighter, but now I feel like I'm going to have to stand my ground on something I believe in. Discontent, leave me now.

You were probably right about me when you called me Rogue. 

She was the one that sucked the life and power out of everything and everyone she touched. I guess that said a lot, and the funny thing is; I'm drawn to that idea. I'm probably the closest thing to a walking disaster as they come. 

Things that could have been prevented if they happened two seconds too late, feelings that could have been avoided, I guess it's all fate. 

On another note:

I don't have long blonde hair, but I'd live in my underwear for you. You can't spell confusion with an A, but you can spell anomoly. I'll still be your Konstantine. Promise me I won't crash.

If we don't have much room to live, how come I can't reach you?

I Get High Just From Breathing

For all of those of you who devise a complicated picture of the glitter of 5th Avenue commingling with the slums of the Bronx, here for you is a picture of my old home in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn. And that is the the car of the current maladroit owners who can't seem to discover just where their stars fit into a constellation in the galaxy of New York.

But really, what is life more than a giant constellation? We spend our entire lives trying to pinpoint the exact location where not only will our stars fit, but where they will shine the brightest. How does anyone know where their luminosity is blazing to the extent that someone recognizes it? It isn't possible until the star has lent themselves to all spots that it could possibly belong to.

I love being home and seeing familiar faces that I had been seeing in my sleep. My deepest desire was to go home, but was afraid of what could be lost. I indulged, and what i was previously afraid of losing what could be lost, and it was lost. It was lost, but I'm doing just fine.