F.K. Preston

There are things we cannot vocalise because the repercussions of particular thoughts have the power to break lives.

Live this life as gently as you would breathe in the seaside air. Then release all those dreams and wonders to the water. Keep breathing until you__e inches from where you wish to be. Then exhale, remembering that gentle life you grew up from.

What is infinity? I haven__ a clue.But maybe that__ the whole point I__e been attempting to explain to you.The fact that it__ not knownOr seenOr heard.Infinity is every person, every being, every bird. Infinity is a simple mystery.It looks like a mystery.Tastes mysterious.Feels like something completely delirious. We cannot imagine what this sound could be.All we can imagine is infinity.

We are not bound by time. But there are things we cannot speak of because the repercussions of particular thoughts can break lives.

My sister lived in the moment. She said she would love the summer only when it came and warmed her. But I lived and still live in the future. Where it__ warm when it__ cold. Where dreams are not yet reality. Where the sad people are happy. The only problem with living in the future is that everyone has died, including yourself. So your plans are fiction and your predictions are fantasy. Living in the future is pure fantasy. I think that__ why I love it so dearly.

No one ever claimed that creating art was simple. But they failed to mention the mess.

Two dreams and a cup of coffee later.

Dreams are memories. Memories are dreams. But my time with you hasn__ become a dream just yet. Because the sensation of your kisses keep me from sleep. I__ in love, God help me, I__ in love.

Dreams are memories we__e lost to sleep.

The strangest thing about demons is that they come to love you. As much as they try to murder the very core of you when you first meet, they become your closest companions. I never asked for this devil on my shoulder. But my eyes are burning and I__ not alone. If you see a red gaze at midheaven, look away. It__ exactly as they say: hell is a hungry place.

I am a deeply uncertain individual. I often find myself acting like a fool to make the people around me laugh. When they__e laughing, they__e not watching me quite as closely. I smile to put people at ease. But what if I opened my mouth one day, spoke my actual thoughts, and the people glared at my opinions? What if they thought me disgusting or frightening or ugly because of my words? Would you keep your lips shut for the rest of your life to not face that judgment? Just for the sake of someone else__ comfort? For these strangers, who I will never know? If I can__ speak then I__l write. These strangers, whose opinions crush me, will be forced to listen. Because when they read my words those words will make a home within their heads. They may even end up using my own opinions against me. But at least I__l be hidden behind the pages of a book.

Hurting someone will not impress them. Intelligence requires empathy to work. Water is wet. The sky is pink through these rose-tinted glasses.

It was a bright day for me when I realised there wasn__ any one way to live as myself. You__e not a character. You have as many sides and reflections as the ripples that pass through a river in the spring. Don__ trick yourself into thinking you must be one person. Because you will never be only one person. Not even in the span of a day are you only one person. We are worlds stitched inside skin. There__ nothing small or simple about a world. There__ nothing small or simple about any living being. Remember this the next time someone tells you who to be and how to live. They haven__ figured it out yet. But don__ let yourself forget.

The belief in their actions can mend constellations. The ambition in their thirst for knowledge can both create and destroy.

Where do they go, these dreams of mine? Do they live? Do they die? Do they fall? Do they fly?

Honestly, I don__ know what I would recommend from this story. Perhaps it is this: if you have the choice to laugh or do nothing, you might as well laugh.

If my life was pulled into the pages of a book, there would be coffee stains and wrinkles along the lines of that narrative. Because all I can wish is that the book of my life would be well read and well loved. Living within words and the sound of writing.

You can't stumble into an adventure. An artist must dance, not walk, in order to inspire their audience. This patient audience who has witnessed all that you've ever performed. So don't be shy. Just dance. Set this scene into motion.