What Is Your Ending...

I've always had this problem.

I get myself so wrapped up in things, little things even, that take place in books. One of my favourite things to do is curl up with a good book. It sounds so cliche, but it is so comforting.

I love reading about Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. I love stories of deception and political disputes involving spies and such. I love the Bourne books, I love mysteries and murder mysteries. I love stories of love and happy endings. I love books that make me laugh, and books that make me cry. I especially love the books you wish you never read, solely for the reason that you get so attached to the characters and how loved they are. That fairytale ending we all look for.

I miss having enough time to read books. I used to go through a hundred or so a school year. Now I fit ten in if I'm lucky. Simple books, not literary masterpieces, the books that one can read with little difficulty and can really enjoy. My new goal is to change this. I'm going to get a couple of the books I've set aside to read and start on them. We'll see, maybe I get back to my one hundred a year average? I don't seem to have time, but I'll figure it out.

A good book leaves you lonely - missing the companionship of the characters. It lets you decide it's ending.

- xx, Kelly.

All The Time In The World...

The feeling of letting go. Taking that first deep breath that mixes anxiety into your blood and takes it for a ride. The adrenaline, the inability to contain your smile,

the inability to contain your heart.

You're untouchable. Flying higher than anyone has ever been.

It's freedom.

Not the kind that can be taken away, the freedom that lives in your heart.

The sound of the wind slipping past you, let your worries go love, you've got all the time in the world.

He takes you to a place you've never been before, where the sun shines brighter, the birds sing louder, the butterflies sparkle more. Your heart tells you - take in what you can, before it disappears.

He wraps you up in his arms lifting every weight from your heart.

Let your worries go love, you've got all the time in the world.

- xx, Kelly.

The Key...

There's something striking about a single key. Like a question waiting unanswered. A whole second half. The beginning of a tale of love, friendship, hopes and dreams. One would never end a thought with only a comma; nor would a story end with only a key. A single note, a powerful sign, an openness to completion. A love to be fulfilled.

It has been almost 16 months since I first wore my key. A single silver key; very simple, worn around my neck. So simple, yet so noticeable. The key is one to an everlasting love; a friendship unlike any other. The key I wear around my next is the key to my best friend's heart, and the key she wears is the key to mine. Any boy who steals my heart must get her approval before he can have the key. Any boy that steals her heart has to go through me first.

We wear the keys as a way to be together always - though we live hundreds of kilometres apart. We are one in the same, completing each other. But neither of us holds the lock that matches the other's key. Though I keep her key safe around my neck it will not belong to me forever. The day the man she falls in love with asks for her hand is when I turn over the key.

This note is to my best friend. One of very few who know all my secrets, and the girl who's been there the longest. I'll love you forever, girlie. Through thick and thin, love and hate, success and failure. And of course, through the boys we fall for that break our hearts, the ones who never look back, and that one special one that is just right.

- xx, Kelly.

Maybe I'm A Lot Of Things...

I don't care. I don't care.

I don't care. I shouldn't care.

I really shouldn't care.

Why do I care?

It seems that every time I attach myself to someone there's a reason to detatch within a couple months/ weeks/ days.

I'm not sure whether I create reasons, of if I'm too demanding, or maybe I'm drawn to the wrong people.. I really couldn't tell you; what I do know is that it hurts.

It hurts when someone you trust lies to you -

I get told I'm too soft, I'm gullable, I'm easy to trick and lie to. Well, maybe.

Maybe I'm easy to lie to, maybe I trust too much, maybe I'm soft. But, maybe, just maybe, it's because I trust my friends, and wouldn't expect them to lie to me. If I did it to you, maybe I'd expect it in return.

I've been told I'm predictable. That I don't know what I want, that I do know what I want and that it's obvious. Well, maybe.

Maybe I'm predictable, maybe I'm obvious, maybe I'm easy to read. But, maybe, just maybe, it's because I'm not trying to fool anyone. I am what I am. At the end of the day I always will be. So tell me, why would I hide that from you? Why bother with silly games when I am predictable and obvious and all of the above?

I'm quite straight forward: I trust what people tell me, I'm predictable, I may not always know every detail but for the most part I know what I want, I am human, I make mistakes.

Please tell this friendship wasn't another mistake?

I care too much.

- xx, Kelly.

Release Me From Your Spell...

Dear Boy,

I would like to tell you a story, and it goes a little something like this:

It was one day, a little while ago that I saw you; it was one day, a little while ago that I was struck by you. Those butterflies everyone talks about seemed to congregate in my stomach, anxiety, excitement, fear - the whole nine yards. You were soo easy to talk to, not a mean bone in your body. You made me laugh, made me smile, made me want you to want me around you. Made me want you, period.

Dear Boy,

Do things always get complicated? It seemed so easy, so relaxed and fun - and dare I say, right? Boy, I know I'm no Adriana Lima, I may not be the most free spirited, funny person you've ever met, and I may be a bit different from the average ideal girl; but was I really this wrong about everything on top of this? Did I really miss the mark by that much?

Dear Boy,

From the moment I met you, I knew you were bad news. No questions asked, no information necessary; everything about you screamed RUN!, but I couldn't move. Every inch of my body was drawn to you when you gave me that first smile, and that scheming wink. I wasn't thinking, but boy was I feeling. From the moment I met you, I knew how things would end.

Dear Boy,

I don't know what to tell you; whether I tell you exactly what I feel, or I wait. Things get complicated, but still things stay simple, easy almost. From the moment I met you, I knew you were trouble; from the moment I met you, I knew it wasn't the trouble that would hurt me.

- xx, Kelly.

Love Is A Luxury...

People say love is what makes the world go round. It sustains us, that to live without love is impossible, right? If you asked me that question straight up, I'd say "love is a luxury, we can live without it."

But then I started thinking about it.. maybe it does make the word go round, I mean, isn't it was we all live for, how we al ended up here?

Everyone looks for love, everyone is happy in love. But is it totally cynical to believe that it's not love that makes the world go round, but karma?

Think about it.

I did, and now I'm not so sure what I think.

- xx, Kelly.

Maybe One Day I'll Settle Down...

Inspiration, hopes and dreams, love.

Four things that keep you going in the dead of winter, on that dark, cold, lonely night. When you're sitting on the window bench of the room you currently inhabit. Four things that keep you from feeling dark, cold, lonely on that winter night. Because you know that everything is okay, you're content with silence.

Call me delusional, but I find those nights are among the best. I love windows, I could sit on my window seat of hours, just watching, thinking, breathing. I love the snowy and rainy nights; they bring a kind of quiet that is calm and relaxed. I love being just a little bit cold, it always makes me feel better. And lonely, well.. I'm never lonely.

I have good friends, family, and my horse. So maybe I'll settle down, or maybe I'll never give up on moving. One thing I know is that I will be happy either way - my friends, family, horses and me.

- xx, Kelly.

Steal A Girl's Heart...

I had to make this a post separate from all others because it marks the end of a special little text I've added to the bottom of each post for the past 60 blog posts.

Anyone can tell you that girls are predictable; we love to be complimented, and there are certain things you can do to get yourself in and out of trouble with any girl. Yet we are also so unbelievably erratic in our decisions and emotions. 60 Ways To Steal A Girl's Heart was a little note I added to each post because I liked or agreed with what it was saying.

I love when a boy calls me babe or beautiful, when a boy holds me tight for longer than necessary, when a boy stands up for me against his friends [or mine], i love waking up to a text from him saying good morning, cuddling, when a boy picks me up and twirls me around, i love spending time one-on-one, i love walking or sitting by a window and talking, I love being able to talk to someone who isn't going to take my words and twist them around.

I really am quite simple; master all of these things, and you'll have my heart.

- xx, not stolen yet.

# 60 hug her, kiss her, hold her and you'll be good to go

Dont You See, Dreams Lie In The Palm Of Your Hand...

We start our lives as soft little question marks, asking question after question. Wanting to know as much as we can possibly squeeze into our little heads. We grow, we age, and soon we're off to school to learn more and more. Somewhere along the way, however, we stop questioning. We lose interest in why things happen; we get too tired to ask why. And then we coast. We do as little as we can to get the marks we need. We read the books we have to, nothing more sometimes less (hello, sparksnotes?)

We learn less, know less, and progress less as we move forward in our education. Paradox?

We transition from a vibrant, curious question mark into a simple, pre established period. A definite end. Before, absorbed in the desire to know why; we wanted to understand, comprehend and create our own ideas from the information we took in. As we progress we are told more and more - fact after fact. This is what you believe, this is what you are to know. This is truth, this is right. Where is the learning in that?Memorizing facts is fine, but how does that help you?

I want to go back to that vibrant little question mark.

Why does it seem like I'm the only one?

- xx, Kelly.

This Is A Story Of Boy Meets Girl...

I read this story on a blog called Le Love Image, and couldn't help but really like it. I'm not sure if it's because it throws caution to the wind, lets judgement go and rides on passions and whims, or maybe because I can relate; to friends telling you you shouldn't, knowing the boy is bad news, falling anyways.

“This is a story of boy meets girl. But you should know upfront, this is not a love story.” - 500 Days of Summer

It’s true. My story is not a love story. But this represents what I yearn more than ever to be, “a prisoner of the moment.”

I met boy less than two months ago. And it only took me one to fall in love with him. He was handsome, adventurous, intelligent, and could throw sarcastic remarks back as quickly as I could dish them. I wanted to spend all of my time with him. Just thinking about him made my face burst into a smile. He was exciting, and I couldn’t get enough.

But after only three weeks, it ended. He was still in love with his ex-girlfriend, and I would forever not be her. It burned at first. I cried. A lot. I thought about all the things we had done together and all the future plans that would never be.

But as quickly as I had fallen for him, I had bounced back. Three weeks of love meant our relationship was only a glitch in time. But it fit perfectly. I wish to be someone that goes whole-heartedly for what I want, disregarding the consequences. And in this situation, this is exactly what I had done. I had many warnings from friends, telling me I was setting myself up to get hurt. Which I did. But, without that risk, I never would have been able to feel that fire. Three weeks of pure happiness was worth the sadness.

Being a “prisoner of the moment” means that I lead with my wants, and not my rationalities. I go based off instinct, not thinking too far into the future. With boy, I dove in completely and tried to suppress all other thought, the scream telling me to protect myself and back out. I was hurt in the end, but life is too short to care. I can only hope I find this passion again, and that it doesn’t burn out quite so quickly.

- xx, Kelly.

#59 surprise her, visit her when she's sick, hold her, just 'cuz