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Some chase after their dream job, while others CREATE their dream job.
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...but fame didn’t suit you, you compromised, a renegade rebel, you gave me your eyes.
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I never want to arrive. I love the ride.
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You own me, because you are me.
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My boy of steel. My man of honor. My perfect friend. My timeless soldier.
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Overexposing my innards to careless hearts and hands is a practice I am prepared to stop performing.
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Here I sit like a brainless robot writing the uncensored, chaotic, evil thoughts springing about in my temperamental female brain.
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No one likes you tar-heart baby, no one likes un-fun-ness.
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Her heart had grown so familiar to the pain of life without him, that to respond now seemed too large a pleasure she could not endure. If pain was love, then she loved fiercely. Yet knew she could not be near that boy again.
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Smile. Your eyes sparkle when you do.
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Building an empire...one letter in front of the other.
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Tar-heart baby, let me be, let me shine bright, stop making fun of me. Stop bringing up my past un-funs.
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She is happy, she is bright.
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I don't want to go viral, I want to set hearts on fire.
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Heart of a queen you’ll see me burst at the seams.
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She stopped caring...and started laughing.
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A cayenne heart can't be broken.
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This is the power of my heart. This is what I call sihr halal.
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Rewriting the world one heart at a time.
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Easy, breezy.