— Derek Landy, Skulduggery Pleasant (via cityoftoomanyfandoms)
— S.E. Hinton (via cold-winter-days)
Cecelia Ahern, The Time of My Life
— White Oleander by Janet Fitch (via citywithcolor)
For a long time I tried to deal with my destination looking different than I dreamed it. The sun never shone as bright as I imagined and the colors were often so much more muted than in my head. For a long time I tried to deal with that. I figured it just meant that I wasn’t in the right place. That I didn’t belong where I stood.
But after time passed and I tried to find my place again and again I came to realize that the home I had been searching for wasn’t somewhere else after all. There was no Utopia that realized what had been in my mind.
The colors are more muted and the sun not as bright for even close to as long. Days are shorter and summer turns to fall without warning. That’s the power of imagination. It creates heavens that don’t exist.
And now I’m left trying to deal with the loss. Which is a lot tougher than holding out hope for better somewhere else.