the replacement project :: c.h.

twenty » sunrises and deja vu

a/n - all my chapters are so heavy and this isn't any different, forgive me for my sins.

i've been off the maps lately with my updating guys, i'm sorry, but i'm slowly just learning to allow myself to take small breaks every now and then. i used to be so obsessed with having to update on a schedule but i find that whenever i force myself into a schedule, my writing doesn't turn out as good. i'm learning to just write when i feel inspired :---))

this bOOK IS ALSO SLOWLY COMING TO AN END, RIP BRI.

enjoy the chapter, you are all so incredibly beautiful!

stay happy,

x bri.

-

[ cara ]

I've come to notice that sunsets are all people usually ever talk about - the deep shades of purple and red and orange and magenta that fill the sky as they slowly sink beneath the horizon. They're the descent of natural beauty, and it's all the hype, really. People in movies sit on the hoods of their cars in front of sunsets and make out. There's an endless amount of poetry written about sunsets and the colors and the warmth and the colors - it's a little crazy.  Within the push of like, six buttons, you'll find pictures of sunsets just about anywhere, let's be honest.

But I hardly see any poems written about sunrises. I don't hear or see as many people talking about the pale blues and light pinks and lavenders and pale colors of sunrises compared to the deep shades of sunsets. I find it a little heartbreaking knowing how under appreciated sunrises are, because they're some of the most beautiful things to exist in our small world full of corruption and chaos and utter shit. Maybe we're just too lazy to wake up at six to see the sunrise, or maybe we for some reason we think that we'll get artsier pictures if we wait until the sunset - more likes, more reblogs.

But I don't think any kind of sunset can beat this.

This was almost too epic.

I sat there with my lower body laid across the rocky trail-ground, my head resting on the material of Calum's sweatpants, outlooking the view of Los Angeles' sunrise from Griffith Park. The trail was set up on a steep hill, so it was practically pedestaled above the entire city. There were blues, and pinks, and purples and clouds in the sky and it was so incredible and it made me want to experience sunrises more often, because they're simply the uprising of natural beauty.

And so I wondered, why would anybody choose to experience the descent of beauty rather than the birth of it? The uprising of it? Why watch beauty descend when you can watch it arise?

"You're right," Calum suddenly said and nodded, wordlessly letting me know that I'd somehow managed to say all of that out loud. I let out a deep breath through my nose and flipped over so that I was looking up at Calum from his lap, and he smiled down at me before tilting his head back up to look out at the view, hands fumbling with the ends of my hair. "I think it was worth waking up at sixth in the morning for."

"Indeed." I chuckled and sat up to sit beside him, rather than on him. He only situated his arm around my shoulder and reeled me back into him anyway, though. If I somewhat smiled to myself, no one had to know.

I feel like if anybody else were to be thrown into this situation, if you will, were to fall in love with their twin's boyfriend or girlfriend who they were aware didn't love them back, and were accused by one of their closest friends for ruining their sibling's life - they'd automatically shut themselves down, shut their feelings down. Chances are, they'd probably hate themselves for feeling the way they did and they would probably do whatever they could do in order to stop their feelings for worsening.