A Lack of Color

Okay, here's another one of my personal posts, so brace yourself.
Lacking in color. Sometimes, this is exactly how I feel, and normally it's not even because I'm causing myself to think it. Personally, I feel like people degrade themselves so quickly without even thinking or caring about what exactly they're saying.
Maybe they're people like me, and I really feel like a hypocrite for writing this. Sometimes I degrade myself so that people will deny what I say about myself to make me feel better, and why do I do this? Because there are times when I feel so crappy and useless that I need a little approval from friends to make me feel worth something.
I know that most of the time I'm a horrible friend. I'm loud, obnoxious, and am constantly trying to make things about myself. I speak my mind without first thinking my words over, and most of the time those words hurt the one I'm speaking to without my knowing. When this happens, I never forget it. That's one of my problems. I never, ever forget my stupid mistakes, and they always pop back up to make me feel horrible.
Lack of color. What is the color? Personality? Creativity? Support? It can really be anything, if you think about it, but one of the things I want to focus on is beauty.
Lack of beauty.
I honestly think this is one of the things that is not a color.
No one lacks beauty.
Though sometimes, I myself feel colorless in this sense. I feel awkward being surrounded by girls who mask themselves with makeup. I'm not saying that wearing it is a bad thing, but relying on it to feel beautiful is. I'm tired of my plainness being stared at from behind lashes thick with mascara. I can't go to even the densest, not even that formal event without my mom stopping at the door and trying to put lipstick on my lips. I'm tired of people telling me that the one thing they want is to give me a makeover.
I'm sure they don't mean it in an insulting way, but by them saying they want to "make me look better", I feel like they are trying to change me, trying to change to way I look. But this who God made me.
If God had wanted me to look different, He would've given me a different body, molded a different face for me. By hiding myself behind makeup, I feel like I'm losing myself at the same time.
So for anyone who's wondering, that's why I don't wear makeup. That's why I don't always wear the fanciest, cutest clothes.
Constantly, I hear, and am even told, "Guys won't like you if you don't wear at least a little makeup, or wear something at least mildly cute!"
I'm tired of girls and women being objectified as something that can't be wanted unless they change themselves to be a certain "type".
When I find the one I'm meant to be with, it will be because I can be myself with him, because I don't have to act differently around him or have to change myself.
I don't mean to say that you shouldn't wear makeup or shouldn't want to look as cute as you can, but just remember, the body you have now, the person you are now, you are that person because that's how God made you.
You're beautiful to Him, as you always will be.
And you're absolutely perfect in my eyes :)
So, as corny as this sounds, show your colors.
~Liz

I Still Love Him

"And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me.

We both knew it, right away.

And as the years went on, things got more difficult --
we were faced with more challenges.

I begged him to stay. Try to remember what
we had at the beginning. 

He was charismatic, 

magnetic,

electric,

and everybody knew it. 

When he walked in
every woman's head turned, 

everyone stood up
to talk to him. 

He was like this hybrid, this mix of
a man who couldn't contain himself.

I always got the sense that he became torn
between being a good person and
missing out on all of the opportunities that life could
offer a man as magnificent as him.

And in that way I understood him
and I loved him.
I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.

And I still love him.
I love him."

Lana Del Rey- National Anthem Monologue

Childhood Sterf (Ermergersh)

Dig it- Holes original soundtrack



Guys.
This was my favorite song like four years ago.
I have the Mega Movie Mix CD.
And this song is going back on my phone.
Just being random now.
I'm so tired.

And now the adorable Felicia Day is on my blog.

You're welcome.

JULIA YOU MUST SEE THIS

I FOUND IT I FOUND THE GIF I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR!

HIS THUMB! WATCH ENJY'S THUMB! OH MY FREAKING GOSH THIS IS SO GOOD.
This excites me.
I love you, Enjy.
You and your spastic thumb. And that random guy grinning in the background. And I'm pretty sure that girl is checking Enjy out.
Rawr.
Yup, this gif is going on Tumblr.
Aves out.

Depressiooooooon

So it turns out that Perks will not be coming out until February.
The internet lied to me.
 I'm not even going to bother cleaning this post up.
Mehhhhhhhh.
Why, internet, why.




omg what did i just find

Harry, you have your mother's eyes.


wat even
that cheered me up



okay, now I'm sad again. This pic reminds me of baby Gavroche.

Julia, if you're reading this, forgive me for inducing unneeded feels.
Don't cry, Gavroche.
Little Gavroche.
Never kick a dog because he's just a pup.
Fun fact. I've lived with Les Mis in my life for about six years, and when I was younger I thought that Gavroche and baby Cosette had a thing.
Come on, I'm not the only one thinking that it would be freaking adorable. I mean...


THink of the babies these two would make.
OMG so cute.
Anyway, I should probably get off now.
Adios
Aves out.

1-1-2013 Bravo, little Gavroche

~WARNING THE FOLLOWING IS A LES MISERABLES AU~CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK~MAY CAUSE FEELS~AND MANY TEARS~

The boy stayed where he was: on his back, his eyes shut tightly. He pretended he was back at home for a moment, then decided that wasn't where he wanted to be. The tips of his curly bangs tickled his forehead in the soft breeze, but he still doesn't open his eyes. At least, not until he feels a hand on his shoulder, attempting to lift him up.The boy leaned into the grip, letting himself straighten until he was sitting up, a firm hand against his back. His eyelids fluttered open and he looked into a pair of very familiar eyes.

"Bravo, little Gavroche."

Gavroche looked around at the smiling faces. Every eye was on him.

There was Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Enjolras, all the other schoolboys: all his friends, his brothers.

Gavroche smiled; something small, but worth so much. 

Courfeyrac and Grantaire, the boys on either side of Gavroche, helped him stand. Gavroche's eyes grazed over each schoolboy's face before his gaze shifted to the scene surrounded him.
The square was not as he had last scene it. The barricade rose higher than he could've imagined, stretching up into the sky. It spread about the square, one barricade the size of many put together, and Gavroche imagined that the schoolboys had taken the furniture and such from every barricade to make this one. Striped and red flags mixed as they rippled in the soft wind, the same wind that brushed Gavroche's sandy curls from his brow. On one of the perches of the barricade, Gavroche saw his sister with her legs curled up to her chest. She was staring off into the distance, but after he watched for a moment, she turned and met his gaze. A small smile hinted at her lips, and her eyes were kind, in a sad sort of way. She wasn't dressed as a boy, as she had been the last time he had seen her. Her dark waves of hair rose and fell gently in the wind. She looked a little ways from him, to where Enjolras stood with Grantaire.
Gavroche wondered about this world.
This was not his France.
Not his town.
But somehow, he liked he better.
He would even say he loved it.
There were no redcoats here.
But the revolution remained.
Revolution without fighting.
Without death.
There was no need for death now.
Gavroche felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked up into Courfeyrac's eyes. His friend smiled back at him, then asked, "What's that new little bit, Gavroche?"
Confused, the boy followed Courfeyrac's gaze and glanced down at his own clothes.
Pinned on his shirt, right over his heart, was a red medal.

NO ME GUSTA YOU'RE AN EVIL FEELS INDUCER

DO YOU PERMIT IT? NO I BET NOT BECAUSE FEELINGS XHSHUSUEIJDIXJISKKEICFJENNENSNDNDNDNDNNDNDJJDJDHJDJJDJDUDJDHDJJD
~Julia


Author's note: Wow, got kinda corny at the end there. Sorry, guys, I didn't know what to call the medal thing. I was gonna say ribbon, but it's whatever. Finally finished, after, like, a whole month of working on it. Hope y'all enjoyed my somewhat AU.

Tiny Little Pieces

"Sometimes honesty is the worst policy,

Happy Ever After, Happy Ever After,

Let it go, you never need to know."

We all have had the feeling that we were on top of the world at least once.

Sometimes we fall soon after that feeling.

In this case, I fell too fast, fast enough that I actually felt the pain when I hit ground.

It was somewhat dull, but still there.

I hadn't said anything.

Hadn't done anything.

But I had been something. 

Naive.

Maybe being a dreamer is a bad thing. 

At least in this case it had been.

I don't know what I'd thought.

He only had me?

There wasn't someone else he could have his eye on? 

I was the only one for him?

It would only ever be me?

I guess none of those really were true.

Tall.

Straight, dark brown hair.

Long bangs over black rimmed glasses. 

Bumpy nose.

My "twin"?

What had we in common?

We both wore converse?

She seemed offended when he compared myself to her. 

Was I offended? 

Only by her reaction to me.

She kept her distance.

She didn't talk to me.

But she talked to him.

Stuck to him like glue.

But it was what she said that made my heart sink.

"You guys are, like, twins!" He had exclaimed.

She had moved in a little closer to him. "You mean you want her to be your girlfriend, too?"

He had said nothing.

I had said nothing.

She had laughed. 

And at each gust of her rough laughter, 

I felt my heart chip into tiny little pieces.

Yeah.

I guess being a dreamer isn't always a good thing.