this little lady welcomes you


what I want to do for halloween:


what I’ll end up doing on halloween:


(via rad-ginger)


Johnny Cash (via feellng)

All your life, you will be faced with a choice. You can choose love or hate…I choose love.

On A Personal Note: 10/1/14

First day of October.

Got donuts and a string ring keepsake. 

Pluto, my Scorpio ruler, is back.

No one in my speech group was excited for AHS: Freak Show but then my professor made his way to our group and brought it up and we bonded flamboyantly. 

Everyone who stuck with Pluto damnit (via plutokiid)


Knock Knock Knock

Everyone has their secrets. To say that one does not is so ignorant and blatantly false. Lord knows that I have my fair share. 
In fact, you’re all so damn lucky. I am going to reveal one of my little devils. Frankly, I just can’t hold onto this anymore. 

I have the diary of Sarah Hepfield. 

Sarah was the girl in town who just dropped off the face of the earth. One night, she’s at her parents cabin with her boyfriend and the next—she’s gone. Wiped away from all existence. Naturally, everyone thought it was her beau, El Douche. But I know what really happened. She wrote it down. 

Sarah, like I said, went to the cabin with her boyfriend. As the night furthered on, and after they had their lovely couple business, they had a fight. Sarah had gone out with a few belongings and walked the entire mile out to the lake that was near their house. Naturally, her punk boyfriend let her do so and ignored the fact that she was alone in the woods at eleven at night.

Now, this lake was pristine, crystal clear and beautiful. There was a small rowboat along a little dock—her parents had installed it a few years prior. We used to go out and pretend to be pirates as little girls. Now, it was her little sanctuary. 

She climbed in and rowed into the middle of the lake. She placed the oars inside the boat and took out the journal she always carried with her. Sarah was always a writer. I don’t remember a time I saw her without something to write in. This is the only way I know what really happened—in a sense.

August 12th—11:24pm:

Fuck Aaron. God I should just dump him already. He’s so damn possessive of me. I know it’s fucked up but I just don’t know how to get out! I mean, if he knows what I’ve done—he’d kill me.
I’m not this innocent little girl anymore. I’m not what they all think of me. No one can know. I’m better off pushing everyone away. Or maybe that would make it worse…
I think Emily and Crysta would still love me—but oh god what have I done? And to think I’m here pissed at Aaron. What he does is a speck compared to the plank in my eye. I don’t think I used that phrase properly but I’m the only one who is reading this and I understand what I meant so I think it’s okay to keep.
If you’re reading this—don’t judge my phrase knowledge.
Oh god, I can’t focus on anything. I can’t believe what I’ve become.

knock. knock. knock.

What the fuck was that?! Something just knocked at the bottom of the boat! It knocked three times—almost softly! I don’t know! Ahhhh what the hell?! Oh my god, oh my god…am I going crazy? How big are the fish here? Are there even any fish??


Everything has been still for a while. I think it was just a fluke. I’m sure if I wait a little bit—I can go back. I should wait it out just in case.

knock. knock. knock.

It knocked again!!! The same set of three knocks! They’re slow, harder now. Oh my god. I’m going to try and row back. Oh my god, I’m too scared to look into the water. I can’t see anything! Why didn’t Aaron come after me?! If anything happens—know that right now it has knocked twice in sets of three and I am going to set this down and try to row back. If it’s just a fish then we can all laugh about this later.


OH MY FUCKING GOD. SOMETHING GRABBED THE OARS. I put them in the water and they were yanked from me! Fucking pulled into the water. Oh my god! I keep screaming! Aaron can’t hear me! Why won’t he come out. No one is outside. Oh m god, this has to be it. Oh dear god why?! Why?! I didn’t mean to do it! I didn’t mean to! I’m so sorry! Stop please! Stop this please! I just want to go back! Please! I’ll fix it if I can just go back! Please let me go back!!


It won’t stop! I’ve yelled at it. I’ve begged. I can’t stop sobbing.I can barely write—this looks like shit but I can’t help but try to document this. What is it?! Who is it?! Why must you torture me? I messed up! Why such torture?! Are we not all sinners?! It won’t answer me! I keep screaming! Mom, dad, Aaron, Emily, Crystal, Andrew…I am all so so so sorry! Please! Please stop! I don’t want to do this anymore!



It won’t stop. It keeps knocking. It’s pounding. It’s shaking the very fibers of the wood. It’s a cadence. It’s drumming—pounding—demanding. This…this must be my call. I am so sorry. All I can do is wait.

knock. knock.   knock.

Two days later, we (along with her family) showed up to find the whole area was taped off. Aaron was a waste and bailed in the middle of the night—which looked great to the police. He was taken away for questioning while the men tried dragging the lake for her body but never found it. They assumed Aaron disposed of it elsewhere.

The boat was found along the side of the lake, right next to the dock. Her journal, her bag, and her pens remained. They were set on a makeshift table as “to-be-marked” evidence. I snagged it.

I don’t know why. I grew up with her and I knew that if anyone could maybe help piece her incident together it was me. It’s arrogant thinking, but I just took it and figured I’d deal with the police later.

I took it home and read the things that she had written that night. I couldn’t make sense of it. Knocking? Who (or what) would knock at the bottom of a boat? Was she really losing it? Why was she so guilty? I threw it under my bed and didn’t open it for a while.

Until now.

I’ve found something. I’ve found something new. 

On the last page there’s a message. 

It’s small. It’s caked and cracked, written with a shaking, muddied finger.

Five words.

At least I knocked first.

[This was a short story I’ve rewritten a lot. It was a part of my Devil’s Carnival series when I was 17 for a creative writing project. The first part is in my “My Writing” section on my blog. I’ve rewritten it to be a stand-alone for this Halloween tag. I just wanted to attempt it in a totally different style :)]



Selena - The Last Concert

omfg her smile i can’t brb currently ugly crying

seriously, that smile <3

(via nudityandflowers)

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