brookecutler2
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The Year of Us
When I write my words, when I set them free in this little bloggy land of mine— the one where you’ve come to meet me, now—I become a better version of me. I can feel it. I can feel the… Continue reading
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Let Them Be
I do this thing where I try to ‘fix’ the people I love. When they are sad. When they are confused. When they are in pain. I do this because when the people who feel like ‘joy’ to me suddenly… Continue reading
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Magic
It’s time to believe in magic. Continue reading
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Tell It To The Sky
When I find myself in times of trouble, I look to the sky and I say: ‘Stop. Thank you. I’ve got this.’ Then I smile as I realise that what I’ve said is actually quite true. Continue reading
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Alone
Sometimes, I feel alone. Even when I’m surrounded by people… I’m not really. I’m alone, drifting in a rose coloured world of wonder. I’m not sad about it— feeling alone, that is. It’s a beautiful place, this world I live in.… Continue reading
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The Night
Sometimes, the night wakes me. When the night wakes me I lie in bed and march through life in my mind, smiling at all the lovely things, frowning at all the things I wish the day had kept to itself.… Continue reading
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The Happy Driver
Arki was a taxi driver, but in his heart he was a writer. He knew he was a writer because the words never stopped racing in his mind until they were out. Neither did the joyous feeling they stirred in… Continue reading
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The Twelfth Day of Christmas
On the twelfth day of Christmas, her sleeping babes warmed her heart from their beds. What joy might tomorrow bring for them, she wondered, remembering the magic of being a child on Christmas eve. She remembered lying in bed, listening… Continue reading
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Merry Birthday
On the tenth day of Christmas, there was a party. Two years ago (nearly) she rocketed into my world and I fell irreversibly in love. With her. My mini me. My little princess of the adorably nuts kind. Happy birthday,… Continue reading