“You seem like a Kings of Leon kind of girl”
Everything was changing like a clock’s hands moving at their own speed, and out of anyone’s control. I thought it was interesting that the plants still grew in the flower pot full of cigarette butts and trash.
Everyone is interested in what a writer is writing…and they always wonder it’s about them.
I told him every time I heard a violin, I lost it. I would cry because they were so beautiful, and it’s the one thing I could never control. And I remembered the exact moment I was standing at work, and a guy was playing a violin right outside the window and I had to fight to keep my composure. And he stared right back at me as he played, and I felt completely helpless. And I said “hey guys, there is a guy playing a violin out here,” and someone said something and everyone started chuckling. And I looked back at the man, his eyes now closed. For in that moment, the ugliness of people, was silenced by the cry of the violin, and I knew what side of the glass I truly belonged.





