Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. The first thing you do is inhale. The last thing you do is exhale. But what if you fear your own breath? You know that it is limited. There are only so many repetitions you get. But there's a catch. You don't know how many. It is impossible to know. Nobody has ever come back to tell. Except Vivian has. Vivian has been confusing "to breathe" with "to be alive" forever. She has never risked anything in order to keep her safety and it has cost her her life. Then, miraculously, she receives a second chance. What happens when she finally decides to live up to her potential?

Rory Jones Sweet, kind and friendly, fell head over heels for the brown haired boy with green eyes from the moment he walked into the cafe. Charmed by him and the way he talks and acts, she trusts him blindly, without realizing that her heart could end up broken in a billion pieces. Nicholas Wilson Charming and cocky hockey player had just one goal since he met Rory, but exactly that goal could destroy everything. He does everything to achieve this goal, but what if he suddenly developes feelings for the girl with the passion for photography and needs now to make a decision, because one thing he knows for sure, he will lose the girl if he pursues the plan. ~ ...he grabbed my hand and held it against his chest "My heart only beats for you, Rory Jones"...

A collection of 12 poems written by a girl who thinks too much about the future and the past.

Welcome traveller! My name is Viktoria and I will be your captain today. The prospects for our journey are good. We will see beaches, mountains and driveways. But be warned, dear passanger, you may see things you don't want, things that are hard to bear. Trust me, I built this ship and travelled acrossed the seas with it. But if you are brave enough then come closer. Until you can sink into the ink. I will lead you through the storms I've already defeated as best as I can. However, I can only take you so far. Don't miss your final destination. So if you are ready, hurry up. The ship leaves every minute.

"That road all paved in gold, I found in my mother's eyes." A girl from Jacksonville, Florida that rose to fame in 1980s Los Angels, lived through countless scandals and ultimately her fall from grace and her abandonment of the spotlight in the early 90s. Once one of the brightest stars above Sunset Boulevard, Poppy Rey has been through it all and always by her side was her mother Cindy. It is safe to say that her sudden rise to the top seemed too good to be true to many, except to Cindy, who has set her own life aside to pave a way of gold for her daughter. Why would she throw it all away in an instance? She confides this long veiled truth to the frail elderly lady, that is in her care ever since she has disappeared from the stages of Hollywood. As Poppy's story comes to an end, the lives of the two women shall be connected in tragic and irreversible ways.

"We taught each other girlhood; learned to be women together. She started using hair rollers when she was sixteen and I laughed when I saw her wearing them for the first time, going to bed in her nightgown, because she looked like a grandmother. The next morning, as usual, she was awake before me, and when I walked into the kitchen, I saw her sitting by the table, hunched over a book and her coffee, her hair dishevelled with the rollers still in but drooping, -- and I was hit with such an intense burst of love, I had to stifle a gasp. I never told her, but it is this image that is ingrained in my memory, that I conjure up every time, for the rest of my life, when I think back to our youth." A story of two girls who share an inseparable bond and how this bond is severed.

If an artist falls in love with you, you never die. No, you yourself become art, arisen from the artist's heart. If poetry is all dead and there is only the depth of the hole it left, then this is the last diary of a poet who wanted to set the world free. This is to all the ones who have loved but still lost, to the ones who have lost all their trust. It is for the ones who endured all the pain and managed to keep their heart sane; to the ones who found their peace and the ones with anger to release. For the ones who have been confused and the ones who have known the abuse. For all the people that are still dreaming, and the ones that can not stop screaming. Is this your love story, shattered in pieces? Do you still search for the reasons? Or did you stop the defending, and this is your happy ending? This is your own love story and I am pleased that you are joining me. This is not just a diary; these are all the memories of a girl who never stopped to believe.