The thing I miss most about instagram is sharing something vulnerable in hopes of connecting with at least one person and creating a moment in time where somebody somewhere remembers that they are not alone.

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The angels told her stories that she wasn’t sure the world would understand

The trees wrote her novels

She wasn’t sure the world was ready to read

The rivers harmonized with her, jotting down lyrics to songs she wasn’t sure the world was ready to sing

And so, she’d keep them to herself, knowing with all of her being that the world needed to be a part of the books, the songs…

She knew with all of her heart that if she stopped being afraid, the world would listen to the angels that spoke through her fingertips

- micayla jean

find more at micaylajean.com :)