Cristian Carrasco
Bio
Here to help in any way I can!
Stories (4/0)
Do You Remember Me?
Do you remember me? I'm the girl that looked "cute enough" to send a message to. I'm the girl that you relentlessly complemented. I'm the girl that you felt oddly comfortable with. I'm the girl that you called "babe" after a few hours of knowing each other. I'm the girl that you built up and then destroyed.
By Cristian Carrasco6 years ago in Viva
For the Days When You Can't Get Out of Bed
I know how it feels, the mornings where the sun is beaming through the curtains, the birds are chirping and the day is right in front of you, but why? Why get up? I don't want to, I don't need to, therefore, I'm not going to. I know the weight depression has and it makes it feel like your bed is where you belong all day but that's not a life. I remember the fights I had with myself every morning trying to convince myself to get up. Here are some things that I did that I hope help you when you're struggling to get out of bed.
By Cristian Carrasco6 years ago in Psyche
Your Energy
She was like fire, vibrant and warm, so was he... and when his flame met hers, the bright reds and oranges instantly danced in harmony, swirling around to a beat only they knew. They light up each other's world with ease... a love so strong it ignites a spark deep in their souls no force could ever reckon with or put out. Their flames grow with every kiss, memory, and adventure. Trusting in the simple flow and flicker of each flame reaching for oxygen, letting it lead them to the beautiful life they always dreamed of.
By Cristian Carrasco6 years ago in Poets
The Girl in the White Dress
Picture an old dirt road on a cold night. There's a light breeze picking up dust in the distance. You see the silhouette of a person walking and as you getting closer you realize it's a girl. She looks about seventeen or eighteen; she's barefoot, with long dirt blonde hair flowing loosely in the wind. You notice the breeze gently dancing through the wrinkles of her white dress. It's a long dress; it flows all the way down to her bare feet. Her feet look dirty like she's been walking for miles; you start following her.
By Cristian Carrasco6 years ago in Psyche