hanl1

Gilbert had not cried in a long time. Not since Arthur took his younger brother. If only he hadn't gone on that stupid venture with his two best friends. If only he stayed with Ludwig instead of leaving, he may have saved him. It wasn't a total loss though. Feliciano and Lovino both were able to get out and in Gilbert's care. They were somewhat independent which made his job a bit easier. He was only 17 at the time, he had a promising life ahead of him. But without his little brother, his world had shattered and no matter what he did, no matter who was with him, he would never feel that same joy he once had. He drank and he fooled around wi

They tell me I’ll understand when I’m older. That I shouldn’t be an artist. But I want to be those crumpled papers in the corner of my room, and the late nights I stayed awake blinking at the moon. And even though I lack the supplies and ideas are far away, I feel artistic blood running through my veins. I’m that empty spray can left in the shadows of the walls where street art’s been made but the name’s not there at all. And I’m that lonely artist who fears of sticking out because all the art critics feel the urge to not speak, but shout. And I’m that girl standing by the window, staring in, w