To write a blog, describe what i feel, how i want, and why i do... is harder then it should be. the photos are beautiful, so why not let them help illustrate your story for everyone to see. write the words, to match the picture, you can put into their minds with the photograph. 
Young, beautiful, talented... passionate. This young girl, seemingly girl-next-door type... hid so much, and loved so much. lost so much, but gained even more. her story goes through dips and sad times, but all through it, after every tear... she could get back up, she could cherish the memories making her cry, and channel them into the music that was her soul. Her name was Lila... (that's Lie-La) At 15 years old, she didn't appear to have a care in the world... No one knew what she would do.
Lila had soft curls through her hair, and when she left them they set her off nicely, making her look soft and aproachable, but of course being a teenage girl, Lila changed herself for fashions, for other girls who told her how to look. Her idol, and inspiration was her late mother.
Coco had been an artist too, not terribly famous, just passionate enough about it to make everyone think she was. It was Coco's firey passion that first go Lila interested in the art. Coco would sang to her every night until she was 6. She died in a car accident... and Lila was left without love and without her best friend. Lila lost everything that then, almost including her mental health. with no dad to speak of, and no one to care after her Lila didn't know which direction to go in. She was lost and afraid and alone.
By 13 Lila had completely shut everyone out... she dressed as strangely as she could to keep new people away. she hid herself away as much as possible. she didn't want anyones sympathy, she didn't want anyone to know she cried. Hiding in the back street alley ways of her town her tears flowed fast and heavily as she let all of the hurt go. Her home was a boarding house sort of set up, an orphanige... but more like a shelter. She would sleep there, but she would wake up, and become independant. the children had to have jobs and get their own meals and clothes. the boarding house payed for their clothes and board, but that was all. 
eventually Lila began to find the music again. One particularly wintery day Lila walked down some outer streets she hadn't seen before. Rugged up in a new
jacket she had just bought she felt spontanious and lively. She wandered down the silent snow covered streets for hours, admiring the new scenery, and trying to work out why it all felt so familiar. 3 hours later she came across an old run down house in one of the very furthest streets. she felt a wave of unknown emotions wash over her. surprised she stepped in for a closer look. she stumbled across a small wooden box hidden underneath the scrub. it was smashed at one end and some photographs were falling out of it.
Gently she picked it up and studied the top of the box. the words, "former glory" were engraved into the top of the box. She opened the box slowly and the lid fell off in her hands. She lifted the top photo, a photo that must have been the house before it tumbled down... a house she knew only too well.
Her house.
