Pen in hand she wrote her own story, one about life and the qualms that come with it. Hair was dark chocolate, stark against fair skin, hiding honey-brown eyes and dark lashes. When she spoke it was about anything and everything; everything in life she cherished and loved. When she dreamed it was a story in her mind, vivid landscapes and thawed out people. She watched and took in everything she could, left wanting more. Ink ran dark along her pale hands, smudging into the bright paper and soft skin as the story continued on.
"I would rather have my independence, then my dignity."