Lauren Martin

A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession.

PatBlogahan.com: Today is a great day!

patmonahan:

I love lots of things. Great songs, great people, funny stories, moving moments, being witness to beautiful deeds. Life is a funny proposition. It tells you to dream, dares you to jump and then only sometimes those dreams come out the way you had hoped.
That’s the puzzle. That’s the beauty.

Neon Trees

—Everybody Talks

Possibly my favourite song at the moment, by one my favourite bands! (Neon Trees).

Name Unknown (SUGGESTIONS)

I awoke in the middle of the night. I took a glance at my alarm clock. Three AM. I desperately tried to think of what had made me so vigilant; so conscious. Maybe I was dreaming, though I have no recollection of a dream. I stumbled tiredly towards my mirror, my recent agitation starting to reform. My agitation quickly and unwillingly turned to desperation as I heard a sound which made my heart flutter noisily against my chest. What is that noise? I peered cautiously out of the window, afraid of what I may see. Nothing. Just darkness. I heard a whisper, the lick of someones lips; it sounds so close. My hairs stand on end, making me involuntarily shudder violently. A firm, cold, icy grip clasps my shoulder which rapidly raises goosebumps over my flesh. I cry out in panic and absolute terror. I know someone or something is lurking at my back. I look towards my mirror once more to determine who or what was holding me. Only my reflection stares back, horrified. I whimper, for I now know my fate. I know what is posed to strike, and I cannot fight it. A creature bound to night; forbidden to see the sun. Before it sinks it’s teeth into my fleshy neck, I utter a shrill cry with all of my might. It is a cry to no avail. Nothing, no-one can save me now. For I am also bound to night. Doomed for all eternity.