and in that moment, I knew why they called it eye contact.

Tell a story.

I write to make me feel like I matter. To make me feel like I matter more than just inside my little life on the campus of Brigham Young University, going to classes and giving the occasional hello. They’re my words and they’re there for anyone to read who chooses. It’s a way to tell my story without someone needing to actually sit down and listen. I can just write for my own sake and say whatever I please. I can make up a fanciful tale with a lovely ending, or a tragic one. Or I can tell the story of what’s going on now in my life, which sadly feels like the middle part of a story that gets skimmed over by the authors of biographies. It’s my decision, and that’s what I love about writing. Maya Angelou said, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.” So tell a story.

tylerknott:


Typewriter Series #572 by Tyler Knott Gregson

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #572 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Stars

I sit in Astronomy in lecture hall looking up at a white screen. Charts, figures, slide after slide of astronomical information. I sit with a blank stare, thinking of other things and other places. I sit and listen to the monotone voice of someone who considers herself an expert on all things related to the sky. But I never understand anything until I leave class, walk outside, and look up at the stars themselves. The light from the moon shines on my face and I finally understand the sky.

Inspired by Walt Whitman

 


 

(Source: therealbohemian)

"Isn’t life funny that some days you know with confidence that you are the peach, sweet and full of life, while on others you suspect with quiet apprehension that instead, you are the bruise that is so carefully and meticulously eaten around?"

Tyler Knott Gregson

Friendship

I love the feeling of being independent. Of knowing that I can accomplish what needs to be accomplished all on my own, that I don’t need someone else to help me, to hold my hand, to give me a lift. I love the feeling of accomplishing something alone. But, there will always come a time when you can’t do what needs to be done without someone else, without aid. And when that time comes, it is the best feeling in the world to know that someone is there to catch you, to hold your hand when you need it. There is no comparison to the feeling that comes when you know someone is willing to drop everything and come to your assistance, even, no especially when you did not ask for it.

allthingseurope:

Piombino, Tuscany, Italy (by Federico)

allthingseurope:

Piombino, Tuscany, Italy (by Federico)

Sky

The sky is blue blue blue today. The enthralling, rich blue that can captivate your gaze when you’re not looking for it. Those are the best kinds of captivations, when you’re not searching for them and they just happen upon you. The sky here never disappoints. In the afternoon, the light blue stretches across the ceiling of the day, and grows into a deeper hue the nearer you get to the horizon. And the sunsets. Oh the sunsets. It’s like the sun doesn’t want you to forget about him, so he gives you a dazzling display of his finest work every evening to remember him by. That’s how I want to live my life, giving people displays of wonder they can’t forget until the next time I come around.

The Bloody Purpose (Mind My British)

I’ve always considered myself a “writer.” But I found I haven’t been doing a lot of writing lately. Not enough to satisfy me anyway, or anything I can pour my soul into, besides my poor battered journal. So, I’m here to write. There are thoughts inside of me just bursting through the realm of the subconscious and onto the metaphorical page. Writing is taking your thoughts and desires and passions and dreams and making them tantalizingly tangible. I LOVE IT.

Ernest Hemingway once said, “There is nothing to writing. All you have to do is sit at a typewriter and bleed.” I want to be like that. To just sit and bleed and have words and sentences and stanzas flow from me like water from a gushing clear fountain. Only a writer could put it as poetically as that. Props to Ernest.