It’s all a matter of perspective

It’s all a matter of perspective

When what you see mirrors what you feel…

by Joshua Fuller on Unsplash

I was out walking the dogs earlier on, and as we drove to the park, it went from bright sunshine, which was shining at home, to cloudy and foggy, only about five minutes down the road.

When we got out of the car and started walking, it was cold, and I found myself pulling my fleece tighter around me in an attempt to keep warm, and my mini dachshund gave me death stares as she shivered beside me.

When we got to the other side of the park, and began the walk back to the car, the sun came out, bringing the heat with it, and the mist all seemed to disappear.

It got me thinking. There are often times in life, where the fog seems to come down over us; engulfing us and making it almost impossible to see beyond the next corner.

There are times when we feel like there’s no possible way for us to escape the situation we find ourselves in, and we can feel like giving up and just stopping, but if we just keep pressing on; moving forward, then maybe, just around the corner the sun will peek through the clouds.

So, I guess what I’m trying to say, is that if you’re stuck in a foggy patch of life, then, just keep going. You may not be able to see the end right now, but it isthere… you just need to hold on to hope, and to keep going.


Li Carter is a writer, artist and crafter. She lives in South Wales, UK, with her family, and five rescue dogs. She’s on Twitter @rbcreativeli , Facebook: Rainbow Butterfly Creative, and Instagram @rainbowbutterflycreative and is the author of My Only True Friend: The Beginning. She is currently working on a new series titled The QuickSilver Chronicles. She is the original Rainbow Butterfly, and wants to fill an ever darkening world with a little bit of beauty and creativity.

Temporo Mandibular Joint Dysfunction

Temporo Mandibular Joint Dysfunction

When you feel like your jaw is trying to kill you

by rawpixel on Unsplash

Today I want to talk about the jaw joint. We all have one, though a large proportion of those that suffer with this specific affliction, possibly wish that we did not.

The thing is, the jaw is an essential part of our anatomy (unless we’re to have an NG tube fitted, and let’s face it, no one would logically choose that). We have to eat, and drink. To do this, we have to be able to open our mouths, and for people with TMJD, this can often be a practically impossible task.

Today, while eating a small piece of sourdough, my jaw joint ‘slipped’ and instead of chomping down on the bread, I found myself chowing down on the inside of my cheek instead, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t utter a few curse words.

This is actually a fairly regular occurrence for me. It happens at least a couple of times a week, and when my jaw is particularly bad, it can be a couple of times a day. This coupled with headaches, neck ache, and the occasional phantom tooth pain, and you can surely understand how I draw the conclusion that my jaw might be out to kill me.

In reality, there’s nothing that can be done to fix my jaw. It is a by product of my severe anxiety, which I am working on, but it’s not easy to overcome something that you’ve been living with for so long.

So, for the moment, all I can do is take painkillers, and eat very slowly, and hope that I can stress out my jaw as little as possible in the hopes that it doesn’t try to take yet another chunk out of my cheek.


Li Carter is a writer, artist and crafter. She lives in South Wales, UK, with her family, and five rescue dogs. She’s on Twitter @rbcreativeli , Facebook: Rainbow Butterfly Creative, and Instagram @rainbowbutterflycreative and is the author of My Only True Friend: The Beginning. She is currently working on a new series titled The QuickSilver Chronicles. She is the original Rainbow Butterfly, and wants to fill an ever darkening world with a little bit of beauty and creativity.

The Circle

The Circle

Big Brother for Millennials?


Over the last week, I have been watching a new tv show, being aired on Channel 4, involving a group of contestants, who move into an apartment building, but can only communicate with each other through an internal social network.

The objective? To be the most liked; the most popular. To avoid being ‘blocked’ and eliminated.

The prize? £50,000. And while this is a hefty chunk of change, as a viewer, this prize money seems to take a complete back seat to the action unfolding on screen.

It started with eight contestants. They entered their respective apartments, and set up their profile pages. The interesting thing is that while some of them set up their profiles, and were completely honest, several of them were not.

One woman, held back the fact that she is mother to a six month old baby, and that she actually has the baby with her in the apartment. Another contestant, loud, Essex based man-child, Freddie, decided to claim to be heterosexual, in spite of the fact that he is actually gay, and another of them, arguably playing the biggest gamble at the start, is ‘Anna’, who is actually Alex. Alex set up his profile using his girlfriend’s photo, and has since, been posing as ‘one of the girls’.

We’re only five episodes in, and there have been arguments, tantrums (mainly from Freddie), and even a possible romance.

The interesting thing, is that everyone there seems to have accepted the other contestants’ profiles as truth, without question. This got me thinking. The very nature of social media allows us to project the persona that we want to the world. Let’s face it, we never post those “less than perfect” selfies that we take, and a lot of us will spend hours trying to get that perfect photo.

The thing is, that this isn’t real. I don’t know of many people that will actually post the darker, not so nice parts of their lives, and yet, on this show, no one seems to be questioning anything that the others are saying.

It makes me wonder how many of us feel like we know the people on our friends lists, inside and out, when really, we don’t know them at all. How many of us have a persona that we project on social media, that is actually nothing like who we really are.

I guess what I’m really saying is, in a world where life seems to be lived more online, than out in the world, perhaps we need to adjust the way that we perceive people online, and try to look beyond the facade, which is all too easy to create.


Li Carter is a writer, artist and crafter. She lives in South Wales, UK, with her family, and five rescue dogs. She’s on Twitter @rbcreativeli , Facebook: Rainbow Butterfly Creative, and Instagram @rainbowbutterflycreative and is the author of My Only True Friend: The Beginning. She is currently working on a new series titled The QuickSilver Chronicles. She is the original Rainbow Butterfly, and wants to fill an ever darkening world with a little bit of beauty and creativity.

My 100000 Word Summer

My 100000 Word Summer

An Update

“purple flowers on paper” by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

I have one week left of this Summer-long project, and it is definitely starting to feel a lot more like Autumn, with October beckoning around the corner.

I’ve found myself missing a number of writing days lately, partly down to illness and partly down to self-sabotage. The thing with being a writer is that there is no one there to set me deadlines and chase me, to get me to hit that word count.

It’s all down to me. I set the rules. I set the deadlines, and I am the one responsible for motivating myself.

On the days when I’ve written, I can at least say that I don’t feel like a failure. I can feel like I’ve actually achieved something, and for the most part, I like what I’ve written on those days (Muriel’s screaming and comments are resolutely ignored).

My word count currently sits at 94,260, so I think, as long as I can stay on track, I should be able to hit my target.

In doing this project, I have actually learned quite a lot:

Firstly, that writing, even if it’s only for a measly ten minutes a day, lifts my mood. It makes me feel as if I’ve achieved something, and sometimes, that’s just enough to keep me from despair.

Secondly, that writing is a lonely craft and that I have to discipline myself. No one is going to sit me down and make me write — that job falls to me alone.

And, thirdly, that it is important that my goals are somewhat flexible, and that I should revisit, review, and revise them accordingly, rather that continuing to press forward with a goal that is unreachable.

So, as I head into this final week, I plan to write every day, and to strive to get these last few thousand words on the page 🙂

See you on the other side…


Li Carter is a writer, artist and crafter. She lives in South Wales, UK, with her family, and five rescue dogs. She’s on Twitter @rbcreativeli , Facebook: Rainbow Butterfly Creative, and Instagram @rainbowbutterflycreative and is the author of My Only True Friend: The Beginning. She is currently working on a new series titled The QuickSilver Chronicles. She is the original Rainbow Butterfly, and wants to fill an ever darkening world with a little bit of beauty and creativity.

Jumping Into The QuickSilver

Jumping Into The QuickSilver

Planning your fantasy world

by Artem Bali on Unsplash

If you’ve been following me for any amount of time, you will know that I am currently working on the first in what will be a series of novels.

The world in which the bulk of the story takes place is a fantasy world hidden within a mirror. I’m still very much working out the finer points, but this is the basic premise for the world.

The thing is, although in some respects, a fantasy world is more freeing because you can basically make up what you want the world to be like, but in doing this, I’m now realising that there are a lot of the little details that I now have to iron out and clarify. This is the difficulty with inventing your own world.

The advantage to setting your story in the ‘real world’ is that the finer details and societal rules are already set in place. This is something that I am now having to work at addressing.

In the QuickSilver, it is up to me to make the rules. I create the laws and belief systems; the environment and weather systems. The social hierarchy, or lack thereof.

Actually, what I am learning through this process is that in some ways, it is actually easier to write about the real world, but if I’m honest, this way is far more fun, and I’m really enjoying working out what this world actually entails.


Li Carter is a writer, artist and crafter. She lives in South Wales, UK, with her family, and five rescue dogs. She’s on Twitter @rbcreativeli , Facebook: Rainbow Butterfly Creative, and Instagram @rainbowbutterflycreative and is the author of My Only True Friend: The Beginning. She is currently working on a new series titled The QuickSilver Chronicles. She is the original Rainbow Butterfly, and wants to fill an ever darkening world with a little bit of beauty and creativity.

Writing As Therapy

Writing As Therapy

When Writing Saves Your Life

by Ana Tavares on Unsplash

I’ve been writing since before I can remember. It’s not just a hobby or a pastime to me; it’s a way of life. There are days when I haven’t written anything, because my depression has been too bad, but lately, I have noticed that on these days, I tend to feel even worse. On these days, I feel like I have not only not written, but that I have failed myself.

The truth is that writing sets me free. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. I love writing; I am a wordsmith. I find the act of putting words in a certain order so as to capture the beauty in nature, and the happiness or pain of the human condition so powerful. It’s intoxicating.

Those of you who know me, know that I do not drink, or smoke, or engage in any illegal (or legal) drug taking. I don’t know how it feels to have those things in your system, but I firmly believe that it probably feels a little like that when I write. Except that I am thinking clearly and won’t get a hangover the following day.

I write because I love it. I write, because sometimes speaking just isn’t enough. Weaving words together on a page has a beauty all of it’s own, and the fact that I get to do that, is something that I will be forever grateful for.

The thing is, when I am writing, I can really let go of my emotions. I can let myself be me, and seeing as ‘me’ is usually someone that tries to hide, it is amazingly, wonderfully freeing.

To me, writing is as essential as breathing, and it is something that I will never, ever give up. Even if my life should depend on it; because if I cannot write, then there is no point to life.

Writing is what makes me feel alive. It keeps me alive and ensures that I will always be able to get the thoughts (whatever they may be) out of my head.

In short, I can say definitively that writing has saved my life, both physically and spiritually, on more than one occasion.

I would be truly lost without it.


Li Carter is a writer, artist and crafter. She lives in South Wales, UK, with her family, and five rescue dogs. She’s on Twitter @rbcreativeli , Facebook: Rainbow Butterfly Creative, and Instagram @rainbowbutterflycreative and is the author of My Only True Friend: The Beginning. She is currently working on a new series titled The QuickSilver Chronicles. She is the original Rainbow Butterfly, and wants to fill an ever darkening world with a little bit of beauty and creativity.

The Carer Mentality

The Carer Mentality

And when you don’t need it any more.

Photo by Doug Maloney on Unsplash

This post is something that I’ve been wanting to write for a long time now, and until today, haven’t felt that I, a: had the words to do it justice, and b: could actually face writing it. So, I’m hoping that today is the day when I can really write it, with the appropriate amount of feeling, to accurately say what I want to say.

This is a hard topic for me. I became a carer for my sister, and best friend when I was seventeen. In October 2017, she passed away. I was 32. So, I had been caring for her for fifteen years.

Carers are often in the news, and people say that they should be applauded, but I don’t honestly think that anyone who hasn’t been a carer can truly grasp what it’s like.

As a carer, your needs always come last, to the needs of the person that you’re caring for. You could have a really bad headache, or feel so tired that you’re dead on your feet, and yet, whereas any other person would just say that they were going to bed; as a carer, you can’t do this, because the person relying on you needs help.

Obviously, there are varying levels of being a carer. My sister had both physical, and mental health issues, and if I’m being honest, caring for her was very hard at times, especially when her mental health was particularly bad.

It’s hard to explain the anxiety of knowing that someone you love and care about is suicidal, and knowing that there’s nothing you can do to make it better for them.

You can sit with them. You can talk to them; but in the end, they are the ones trapped in their own downward spiral, and they are the only ones who can pull themselves out of it.

It took me a long, long time to learn that. The truth is, sometimes, I think I never really did learn it, because every time I noticed her mental health take a dip, that knot in my stomach came back, and sleep would evade me.

I tried to wait her out once, and ended up having to listen to the movie “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” in it’s entirety (if you know anything about me, you’ll know that I am NOT a horror girl).

The thing is, that as a carer, you do it. You don’t think about how scared of horror movies you are. You don’t think of the night’s lost sleep. Your focus becomes completely based upon the wellbeing of the person that you care for.

The hospital trips, the doctor’s appointments, the therapy appointments, to say nothing of just general trips out, and the usual fetching and carrying, food preparation and cleaning.

Being a carer consumes your life.

I’m not writing this post as a “poor me” type post, and I hope it’s not coming across in this way. I love my sister, and I would give anything to have her back, but that’s the thing with death. It slams the door on you, and there’s no way to open it again (but that’s another post entirely).

The thing is, being a carer consumes your life (yes, I’m repeating myself, because this is just so important to grasp). Your first thought in the morning is for the person you look after. Almost every thought is for them.

But, what do you do when your care is no longer needed. What do you do when you’re made redundant?

I have trawled the internet for information on this, and have found nothing.

What do you do when that first thought is still for the person, and then you realise that you don’t need to think about them like that any more. This is when the pain of grief is doubled, possibly tripled.

It’s been almost a year now, and I’m still not used to it. If a friend asks me to go out for lunch, I still find myself thinking that I need to check for appointments, or plans that my sister might have made.

When I get ready for bed, I find myself thinking that I need to make sure that she has everything that she needs.

These thoughts aren’t just something that go away instantly. It takes a long time. Sometimes I wonder if they ever will. Part of me doesn’t want them to, because when they do, I will have to fully admit that she’s gone and that she’s never coming back, but I know this isn’t a healthy way to think.

So when the thoughts come up, I try and force myself to put them to the side, and plan for things that I want to do instead, rather than thinking on things that I should have been doing if she were still here.

I hope that in time, this will allow me to truly set her free, and in return, I will also be setting myself free.


Li Carter is a writer, artist and crafter. She lives in South Wales, UK, with her family, and five rescue dogs. She’s on Twitter @rbcreativeli , Facebook: Rainbow Butterfly Creative, and Instagram @rainbowbutterflycreative and is the author of My Only True Friend: The Beginning. She is currently working on a new series titled The QuickSilver Chronicles. She is the original Rainbow Butterfly, and wants to fill an ever darkening world with a little bit of beauty and creativity.

TMJD: the struggle is real

TMJD: the struggle is real

When pain prevents productivity

by Vinicius Amano on Unsplash

This week I has goals and challenges that I set for myself; things that I wanted to get done so that I’d feel like I’d achieved something. Unfortunately, my jaw had other ideas when it decided to lock itself up continually and then become so painful when I tried to release it that I’ve had a near constant headache all week, which has since spread into my ears and my neck.

I can hear you asking “Have you taken painkillers?” The answer is a resounding yes. I have taken painkillers. Because I’m not an idiot and I don’t think that just sitting there in pain with a “stiff upper lip” mentality is really going to cut it in today’s society.

The thing is, that even with doing this, and with applying heat, I’m still in constant pain. And yes, I can hear you also wondering why I don’t go to the doctor, but there really isn’t much that a doctor can do other than prescribe pain killers, which I already have.

Usually, I can manage the symptoms, but this one seems to be a particularly bad flare up, which has had me in bed early most nights.

The problem is that when you have a headache, you don’t really feel like doing much. You can’t focus or concentrate. You feel dizzy, and your ears ache, and the pain is sometimes so bad that you want to cry. But, guess what?! If you cry, it makes your head hurt even more.

Added to that, none of these symptoms are actually visible, so even though you feel like death, no one else can see it. Do you know how annoying that is? So not only do you feel lousy, but people can’t even see it, so you feel like a damn attention seeker and like you’re just lazy when you can’t achieve the goals you’ve set yourself.

Still, there’s always tomorrow, and you hope that you will wake up feeling better, and that maybe, you’ll be able to accomplish something.

So, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to keep on making goals, and I’m going to keep on trying, because it’s only when I give up, that the illness truly wins.


Li Carter is a writer, artist and crafter. She lives in South Wales, UK, with her family, and five rescue dogs. She’s on Twitter @rbcreativeli , Facebook: Rainbow Butterfly Creative, and Instagram @rainbowbutterflycreative and is the author of My Only True Friend: The Beginning. She is currently working on a new series titled The QuickSilver Chronicles. She is the original Rainbow Butterfly, and wants to fill an ever darkening world with a little bit of beauty and creativity.

Adopting A Niffler

Adopting A Niffler

A Personal Log

On Thursday, this adorable little guy followed me home. Well, actually, his previous owner gave him to me. It turns out, he didn’t even know what he was. He was all alone and so cute, and yes, I’ll admit it, I felt sorry for him, so I let him in. It appears that this was my first big mistake.

The moment I got him through the door, he started rummaging. He didn’t even stop to check that the door was closed, or whether anyone was watching him. I have provisionally named him George (after one half of the wickedly inventive Weasley twins).

He seems completely unfazed by the dogs, and if I’m honest, I don’t think I’d fancy my chorkie’s chances, were she to get between George and anything shiny. He’s trashed my art room, and is currently sitting on my desk with a growing collection of randomly chosen, sparkly objects.

I never thought adopting a niffler would be an easy task, having read all of the available literature on the subject, but I must admit that I hadn’t expected it to be quite so difficult.

I’ll keep you updated as I learn more about him. Expect plenty of photos. 🙂


Li Carter is a writer, artist and crafter. She lives in South Wales, UK, with her family, and five rescue dogs. She’s on Twitter @rbcreativeli , Facebook: Rainbow Butterfly Creative, and Instagram @rainbowbutterflycreative and is the author of My Only True Friend: The Beginning. She is currently working on a new series titled The QuickSilver Chronicles. She is the original Rainbow Butterfly, and wants to fill an ever darkening world with a little bit of beauty and creativity.

The Boy Who Flew Away

The Boy Who Flew Away

A Snippet

by Hello I’m Nik on Unsplash

The swing set creaked in the wind; well, more of a breeze really, but the fact is that it only moved a tiny bit, but then uttered sounds as if it was about to die. Squeaking guttural sounds that made my skin crawl and my heart thump.

The old park isn’t really up to much now. The decrepit climbing frame has more rust than paint on it, in spite of the latest community service chain gang’s efforts. They don’t understand that by simply painting over the rust, they are only wasting their own time. The paint will not stick to cracked, crumbling metal work that really should have been torn down a number of years ago. I sit down on the swing. It is the only useable seat and it groans under my weight. I brace myself to come tumbling to the ground, but the fall never happens, and I am impressed in spite of myself.

The silence in the park is the loudest noise in all the city. I think that’s why I like it here. The hustle and bustle of the city and all the people with their various thoughts and feelings and plans unsettle me. I don’t really understand why. I wish that I did. Then, maybe I would be able to deal with it without having to resort to… My mind trails off almost by itself. It won’t let me even think it, but I know that when the time comes, I will inevitably turn back to it again, just like I always do. It seems to have this inexplicable hold over me, that I can’t quite break.

I dig my toes into the ground. The gravel shifts under my weight, with some pieces bouncing out of the way, making me jump a little. I look around, just in case anyone has seen, then I realise how stupid that is, because no one else is here. Nobody ever comes here. Another reason why I like the decrepit old place.

I glance over at the rusted skate ramp. Tags and other graffiti adorns it, as if someone has come along and felt sad at the state of it, and decided to try and improve it. It didn’t work. I wonder if they ever come back to check whether their handiwork is still here. It is possible, but then, anything is possible. At least, that’s what they tell you. They never seem to think about how much work you have to put in, and that more often than not, it won’t come off and that you will just be left as a failure.

Little spots of rain begin to fall, dropping onto my head. I shiver a little and shake them off, but they keep coming, heavier now, landing on my hair and rolling slowly down my neck, chilling me to the bone until there is no way that I can stay here.

I get up and make my way over to the skate ramp and take refuge underneath it, with the spiders and beetles and woodlice. My sister would scream and say that I am mad, but I’m just not scared of them. Up until recently, I wouldn’t have said that I was scared of anything at all, but I guess I know better now. They know what scares me, and they certainly aren’t afraid to use it. I still can’t believe I was stupid enough to let them see. They think I’m a joke now. I guess I sort of am. I can’t imagine that anyone else would have let themselves get into a mess like this, but I’m not anyone else. I am weak and stupid and that’s exactly what they want from me.

Navigating school has become a little bit like playing the art of war, except that I am ill equipped and ill prepared for the battle. The teachers don’t seem to notice or care. They just see me as a moody smart mouth, and I know that I don’t help my cause, but they could at least try and look past my attitude. I keep hoping that someone will notice, but none of them seem to care. All they really care about is whether I’ve done my homework, and if I turn up to class on time!

I sit cross legged on the floor under the ramp. The bugs scatter, like rats leaving a shipwreck. I watch them with amusement and can’t help but wonder if there is another, bigger being somewhere, doing exactly the same thing, except that instead of bugs, they are watching us. I know, I sound crazy and I wouldn’t blame you if you stopped talking to me right this instant.

The rain is heavier now, pounding as hard as it possibly can on the ramp, almost deafening me, but I don’t really mind. The sound is actually managing to shut out the thoughts in my own mind that seem to drift and swirl; an eternal cyclone, put there to confuse and scare me, and once more, I long for the oblivion that it will bring, but that can’t happen yet. He won’t be here for another hour.

I stuff my hand deep into my pocket and it closes around the money. A thick wad of tenners, rolled into a sausage shape. There’s £60 there. That’s what he charges me for a wrap. It should be more, but I do his homework for him, too. He doesn’t care what grades he gets, as long as the work is handed in and he doesn’t get any hassle. He says it’s actually better if the grades aren’t too high because they don’t expect too much of him then, so I usually just write a couple of answers, leave some blank and get a couple wrong, just for good luck.

A spider approaches me, but then stops. I eye it, and for a moment it is as if we are having a staring contest. I smile. Of all the things that other, more ‘normal’ people are doing, I’m guessing that staring out a spider definitely doesn’t even register on their radar. The spider gets bored, and moves on.

My phone buzzes in my other pocket. I get it out and open the text message. It’s Mum, wondering when I will be home and what I’d like to have for dinner. I smile sadly, sigh and type, “I’m meeting someone in half an hour. I’ll be home by 8. I don’t mind what you cook” I read through it, and then add “Love you. x” to the end before I press send. It’s not Mum’s fault things are turning out like this.

I watch the rain fall, pitter pat, pitter pat, and I am thankful that I at least have the skate ramp to shield me from it. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for a homeless person, out in the elements all the time, with no respite and no where to escape to. I guess there are some things worse than what I am going through.

Finally, I see him, swaggering across the park towards me. The legs of his baggy, too-low jeans drag along the ground as he moves. A dark line encompasses them, showing the boundary between wet and dry. He is wearing a baseball cap, pulled so low that I’m surprised he can actually see anything at all. He approaches and slaps the top of the ramp,

“Rat, dude!” he says in a slow drawl.

I scramble out of the way of a shower of dirt and bugs, shunted out of the way by his slap. Straightening up, I pull my rucksack on to my back. I am shaking. “Have you got it?” I ask, not feeling the idea of making small talk. He holds out his knuckle dusted hand, “You first” he says, a sly smile on his face. He loves having this control over me. He thinks it’s fun. It isn’t fun for me, though.

I drop my bag to the floor and start rummaging through it, until I find three sheets of Math, and possibly the world’s shortest English essay. I hand them over, and he looks them over, inspecting them, like he actually has any chance of understanding it anyway.

I grimace as I stand and switch my weight from one foot to the other, impatient. The urge to fly; to be free; to just not be me for a while is so strong, that it’s all I can do to stay still. Finally, after what feels like about an hour, he deems the sheets adequate and reaches into his pocket.

“You know the drill” he says, holding out his hand. I reach inside my pocket, and grab at the money, like it is poisoned. Like there is nothing I want more than to get rid of it as quickly as possible. I almost throw it at him, and snatch the wrap, shoving it deep inside my pocket, replacing the money with a far more valuable, albeit far smaller package.

He watches me for a moment, then holds out his hand. I oblige with the obligatory gangster handshake,

“Laters Ratty boy. Gotta go, I gots me business to do!” he says and he looks almost puffed up with a sense of his own importance. He turns and I watch him walk away, getting smaller and smaller until he is nothing more than an ant in the distance, and I feel as if I am some kind of omniscient being, watching, and waiting for something to happen, but it never does.

Li Carter is a writer, artist and crafter. She lives in South Wales, UK, with her family, and five rescue dogs. She’s on Twitter @rbcreativeli , Facebook: Rainbow Butterfly Creative, and Instagram @rainbowbutterflycreative and is the author of My Only True Friend: The Beginning. She is currently working on a new series titled The QuickSilver Chronicles. She is the original Rainbow Butterfly, and wants to fill an ever darkening world with a little bit of beauty and creativity.