Entries By EMily
Displaying 1 To 30 Of 2,541 Entries
pairs
Lots of things come in pairs. Shoes, glasses, pants. Wonder where that word came from. And why they use it for things that aren’t really pairs. Sure, shoes come in twos, but glasses are just one piece. Very strange. I don’t really know what else to write about “pairs” I am waiting for the time to end.
Posted By Emily On 06.18.2013 @ 8:48 am
They came in pairs. They were odd little figures. Made of some sort of stone. When you looked at them from one direction, they were purple but from the other they were gold. I couldn’t explain the woman they were styled after to you if i tried. she was beautiful but haunting, like someone i met when i was a child. A woman named Marianne. She used to watch over me as a child when my mother was away.
Posted By Emily On 06.18.2013 @ 2:07 am
my school used to have a lot of twins. like, alot. Every time i would see a pair of them i would wish it was me. Wouldnt it be cool to have a twin? A best friend? A practice round? an alternate life?
Posted By emily On 06.17.2013 @ 9:11 pm
sleeved
i sleeved the car window to get the fog to go away. it was twenty degrees outside and my car had broken down. i was supposed to be home to alex for his birthday. why do bad things only happen on good days? i need him to know that i love him and that i’m here for him.
Posted By Emily On 06.15.2013 @ 9:24 pm
pixels
tiny single colorful light full of wonder and magic making thousands of images real worlds and phantasms to haunt your daydreams and nightmares wonderful, the base ten block of my life pixels
Posted By Emily On 06.14.2013 @ 10:40 pm
decompose
I decompose at the end of the day. I do not unwind. I break down until I no longer have a body that is mine. I am not alive. I am not dead. I simply am. I do not want to live. I want to be. And the way to do that is to decompose. At least when I am asleep I do not know of my body. I know of my mind.
Posted By Emily On 06.12.2013 @ 12:49 am
coach
a coach is a person who teaches sports to the players of said sport. i had a coach when i played basket ball.
Posted By emily On 06.11.2013 @ 7:10 am
fools
We are all fools who are trying to trick ourselves into thinking that we are something more. We are no more than ignorant tricksters trying to play god in a world that I’m beginning to wonder why we think we own. We are fools who believe we will never die. That it will never be us.
Posted By Emily On 06.10.2013 @ 9:16 am
the entire world is filled with fools, fools of all sorts. a fool like me or you simply a fool
Posted By Emily On 06.09.2013 @ 3:14 pm
undetected
I wish that inside my head I could fly under the radar. To be undetected even to myself. I wish that for one day I could see inside my head as though I was an outsider peering through half-closed window curtains.
Posted By Emily On 06.08.2013 @ 11:21 pm
alarming
The bells ringing in my head are alarming. They are the alarms that tell me I am not right and that I am not able to find this sense of being wrong. The alarms are alarming. I cannot escape these alarms, for they already tell me I am too late. I am behind. I will never be first in this race to find myself.
Posted By Emily On 06.07.2013 @ 3:35 pm
collage
pictures are beautiful. you can put them in a collage and make them pretty and very great to look at. there re different frames you can buy to post your collage on the wall and to see what everyone thinks about it. collages are great with just yourself or others. they are pretty of things also not just people. i love collages.
Posted By emily On 06.05.2013 @ 12:19 pm
The collage that is my life has been made of experience. Experience from things I have seen with my own eyes and from things I have felt with my own body. Our lives our collages, made up of pieces that don’t seem to fit together unless you look at the whole. Things that appear unlike the others until the story has been told.
Posted By Emily On 06.05.2013 @ 11:53 am
brotherhood
they were bound by an invisible bond. yet they all knew it was deeper than just a bond. it was blood. it was the brotherhood.
Posted By Emily On 06.02.2013 @ 8:35 pm
secluded
I am always secluded. I am always an island unto myself; I am the lonely iceberg in the middle of the ocean, the tallest tree in a forest of shrubs. They say seclusion is a good thing, but the emptiness inside my chest does not feel good. It feels like a ghost limb, an echo of pain, something that should hurt but doesn’t but still does, if that makes any sense.
Posted By emily On 05.30.2013 @ 9:28 pm
neon
there was a bright neon sign. To everyone, it was just a sign. To her, it was the life she lived. It reflected her attitude, whether she was going to be open or if she was going to be closed.
Posted By Emily On 05.30.2013 @ 9:16 am
oblique
I really don’t know what oblique means. I should probably look it up in a dictionary right after I’m done writing about this. Oblique… I think it might mean not direct? Or not perpendicular. Like a stick can come out of the paper obliquely. Gradually. At a slight angle. That’s not at all what it means but I really don’t know.
Posted By Emily On 05.28.2013 @ 10:49 pm
i turned towards him. the oblique slope behind us seemed tempting. i was ready to drop and roll. i wanted to be gone. i couldn’t do this. all i wanted was to fall to my back and roll down and down and down. i didn’t care that the bottom led to an unknown. i just wanted to roll down that oblique, far and far away.
Posted By emily On 05.28.2013 @ 9:57 pm
As I stared into her eyes, I realized how oblique our friendship had truly been and how ready I was to start anew.
Posted By Emily On 05.28.2013 @ 8:02 pm
delve
As the rain beat on his window, he finally put down his work to delve into a beat up novel and release all of the stress that had been balled up inside.
Posted By Emily On 05.27.2013 @ 10:21 pm
catapult
A slingshot is like a catapult. I can only wish that I had one of those now. My sister was being such a brat. If only I had something to fling at her.
Posted By Emily On 05.20.2013 @ 3:48 pm
Armies used catapults, well they did in medieval time. It was cool and all until they used fire and burned down villages. That sucked. They swing things around and hurt people but y’know things happen and life goes on.
Posted By emily On 05.20.2013 @ 11:34 am
lullaby
everyone thinks that lullabys have to be sung. but no one ever sang to me, not that i can remember at least. but the moments of my parents holding me until i fell asleep or just being there, that was my lullaby. and thats what everyones lullaby should be, it should be what made them the most comfortable.
Posted By Emily On 05.19.2013 @ 7:00 pm
She sang softly to the child, her voice soft and soothing. The infant’s eyes closed and her mouth opened I’m a pink o. She drifted off to sleep but the lady continues to sing. As she continued the soft tones began to mangle into a disturbing disjointed melody. The child awoke with a cry, bawling, tears streaming dowm her small face. The harsh tones of the lullaby grew louder and louder along with the baby’s screaming wails. All the sound stopped abruptly. Only silence could be heard.
Posted By Emily On 05.19.2013 @ 6:26 pm
A song my mother used to sing to me. It would lull me to sleep. Most nights I would go straight into the arms of slumber. But it wasn’t those nights that were memorable. It was the nights that I spent tossing and turning in bed, even after my mother sang me that
Posted By Emily On 05.19.2013 @ 3:26 pm
signed
i signed a paper. paper a signed i. signing papers is something i do. do i something is papers signing.
Posted By emily On 05.18.2013 @ 9:56 pm
wafer
So fragile–it crumbles under my touch, disintegrates on my tongue, disappears.
Posted By Emily On 05.23.2013 @ 8:19 am
Like in England, when our ship would sail across the ocean from West Africa for a little while, and we’d have a chance to go to the supermarket and buy these pink-and-yellow, strawberry wafers. They’d melt in our mouths during snack time, and then it was back to school-on-a-ship.
Posted By Emily On 05.23.2013 @ 8:14 am
soap
Clean and smooth. It smelled like my auntie and her lake house, the one with the porch and the quiet, sleepy dog out front. She would come out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, trying to figure out what she was going to do next. She would call our names, each with more demanding spirit than the last and tell us that we had to come to the kitchen or else our dessert would be sent to the dogs.
Posted By emily On 05.10.2013 @ 5:40 am
