She is filled with darkness and silver linings.
She wears her heart on her sleeve for all to see, and steal. She never fully understands, but she is well aware.
She contradicts herself with every move she makes. She panics because she can’t recall the last time she was truly content. There’s a constant battle inside of her. She pretends that it makes sense, and they believe her. She is equally good at hiding as she is with projecting. She is the eye of the hurricane, with an unspoken softness.
She lives in a story: not an epic love story, or even something that could be deemed inspirational. She writes the stories of her characters with a raw passion, looking into the future, breaking her own heart as she goes. She doesn’t mind though. She has accepted that she constantly finds herself in the way of the universe.
Her mind is a fickle place and any attempt to tame her thoughts will be unsuccessful. Her eyes dart crazily wherever she finds herself and she imagines the most bizzare events. Her emotions run wild, but she argues with reason. There is a flame in her soul that burns her and drives her mad at times. She will do anything for the love of a thing, even when she is aware of the impending fall.
She embraces loneliness as much as she hates being alone. Her mind’s eye sees in dirty charcoal and baby pink, ever since she can remember. There is never an in-between, only extremes. Always.