I hate the idea of soulmates

I hate to think that the person for me

Can only be found by a fee

Whether that means traveling the seven seas,

Or waiting for heartache after heartbreak to heal

I hate the idea of soulmates

That they’re predetermined

Something that is forever certain

It weighs on me like a burden

I hate thinking that a soulmate

Is something I can never obtain

We live on such a vast plane

All my attempts will be in vain

I like to think

That we find our soulmates

That the love we find

Was made by our own two hands

I like the idea that soulmates

Are people we meet

Someone from off the street

We love and we laugh and we cry

I like to think that soulmates

Are bonds that we create

Rather than something like pictures on a wall

Because pictures aren't tangible

But I'd like to think that they are

Viya woke up one day, afraid of the shadows. They always followed Viya. Where she went, they were there. Viya was afraid. One day, Viya woke up and saw there wasn’t a shadow. Viya was afraid. Viya wondered where the shadow went. It was bright, so why wasn’t there a shadow? Where did the shadow go? Viya looked for the shadow, behind Viya, under Viya’s bed, in the closet. But the shadow wasn’t there. Viya looked all day. Viya couldn’t see the shadow. Viya was afraid. Viya went to bed. Viya woke up and saw the shadow under Viya. Viya was afraid. Where did the shadow go? Why was the shadow back? Viya realized it was better when the shadow wasn’t there. But now it was too late. The shadow was back. Viya was afraid. The shadow followed Viya to the closet, under her bed, and to the kitchen! The shadow wanted Viya to be afraid. The shadow didn’t let go of Viya. Other shadows followed Viya too. There was always a shadow following Viya. Viya was afraid the shadows could hurt Viya. One day, Viya woke up and the shadows hurt Viya. Viya was bleeding. The shadow wasn’t there.

Sometimes, I wish I could fly away.

To someplace where I could stay.

A place where I can be happy,

and not worry about the people around me.

Sometimes, I wish I could fly away.

The world has so many paths, leading me "astray"

That's what my parents would say

Sometimes, I wish I could fly away.

Trying to keep the violent thoughts at bay

Good thoughts I try to convey

Hoping the two can meet halfway.

Sometimes, I want to fly away.

My world is different shades of gray.

I constantly feel like I'm stuck at a gateway

Waiting on the positive rays.

Sometimes, I fly away.

Seeing a new place of play

A place I won't be betrayed

A place that never has a rainy day.

Where I can be a happy little runaway.

So I will wait, until the day I can fly away.

Happiness, laughter, late-night smiles, that's the beauty of love. That's what the media believes real love looks like.

In reality, real, true love, is not that accommodating. It is painful. From the very beginning, there is already heartbreak.

You see your best friend, someone you hold dearly, being hurt by others from "love", but they get up and try again, just to get destroyed again. All for the sake of love, and you begin to wonder, why do so many people put themselves through it? This is only one part of the spectrum.

On the other side, you like someone, and watch as they date other people, over and over, and all you can do is support them from the sidelines. You're either too afraid to tell them because of rejection or fear of ruining your relationship. It's too late, you're already being hurt, because you've already fallen in love.

You're already in a relationship. You fight more than you can keep track of at this point, but you stay in this ruined relationship because you think you're in love. Maybe the relationship is abusive, and hurtful for you both, but neither of you wants to give up through the belief it's meant to be and in the end, everything will work out.

The idea of love is equally as beautiful as it is ugly. It can be the epitome of happiness, or it can be the cause of self-destruction. Love is romanticized, the good and ugly parts, and so we crave it more. But love can not be simply defined; it has no set meaning or value, and changes from person to person, relationship to relationship.

Everyone speaks about the years going by as if they never existed; as a memory long forgotten.

The Kingdom of Vystienna is a kingdom unlike the ones we know in this world. With the rise of a new monarch, there has always been a predicted period in which they ruled. Some lasted hundreds of years - others a mere five - until their timely death. One king, in particular, was told he would only rule for twenty, which was comparatively better than those who never reached even ten years. However, he decided he wanted more. Such a simple thought, the idea of trying to outrun the clock. If only it was that easy, to manipulate time.