Saoirse Sinclair

Even though I’m writing this in an attempt to articulate myself, maybe there is no way to truly define a nagging gut feeling that can’t find its way to clarity through words.

My track record of well-timed romances is pretty appalling.

Once upon a time, my mind was a medley of multiple voices screaming out for attention.

I turned 18 today in the most beautiful city in the world: Paris.

She was born with an unshakeable thirst for words; to speak, to read and to write them, to consume them and follow the paths they whisper between the pages. He may not say much, but his eyes shine when he sings, and all she hears is honeyed and golden.

I am catastrophically attracted to you and am long past the point of convincing myself otherwise.

While speaking to a friend about my recent breakup, she asked me if I was worried if my ex-boyfriend would run off with another girl straight after leaving me.

You’re a lucky girl to have fallen into the clutches of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful hurricane of a man.