bo {d7/cb2}
Dec 31, 2014 18:15:02 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Dec 31, 2014 18:15:02 GMT -5
“Brandi I just wanted to tell you—”
“It’s just Bo.”
“Okay, Bo, I needed to tell you that—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
They say we age with grace, like fine wine, but really, most people’s opinions only grow bitter.
That’s why we wrote our hopes on the insides of books, to remind ourselves how our thoughts had changed and aged, how we had looked at things in a different manner.
Well, my brother did anyway.
I never wrote anything down (he called it a fault of mine), because I never saw anything in a bad light to begin with. My family called it immaturity and I called it optimism, both for different reasons I presume. It made no sense to look at life as anything less than glorious, for you could blink and it’d be gone, and for this reason alone, I kept my eyes wide open.
Sometimes they’d be turned upon the trees, where the leaves and iris were a color of the same, and at other times they’d be turned to the ground below, but they were always open.
I just don’t want to miss a thing.
But that’s where my brother and I differ because I think he wants to miss everything. He doesn’t want to see the bad in the world so he shuts his eyes from the good too. I don’t understand how he stumbles like that, but I suppose that’s why he writes his hopes down, because he can’t be reminded of them in the morning sun or night sky.
We’re different, he and I, but we’ve got some sort of ties, as a dreamer and a realist, and if he’s happy with his heart being tied to the ground, I guess I’m content with mine in the sky.
- brunette
- shorty
- teenage acne wtf
- near-sighted sameBrandi Oso "it's just Bo" PinesFourteenFifteenSixteenDistrict SevenoDair
