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i always wanted a convertible since i was like 5 years old. i always thought i would look like my red headed barbie doll she had a blue convertible and i always thought i would be like her until my mom told me her friend died in a convertible then that dream was over.

Posted By emily On 11.12.2008 @ 4:49 pm

a car. pointless in my opinion. not good for winter. i hate the leather seats. its kind of well..only a summer car if you would like it. i hate how messed up your hair gets. one time, i was driving one and i had $500 shades on and they blew off. so no, i dont like convertibles.

Posted By Emily On 11.11.2008 @ 10:34 am

convertible. her shirt, her car. everything could convert to something else…transforming to meet the occasion. this was just how she functioned. never did she realize the price of her convertible lifestyle till now..when the one thing she loved proved as convertible as she.

Posted By Emily On 11.10.2008 @ 9:35 pm

The beat of my own heart startled me in the dead of night. My head on the pillow was sweaty, and hair stuck to my face–clinging like a dew on a spider’s web. I was thinking, just thinking for the longest time and then I finally realized I was alive. That’s when my own heart startled my from my waking dead. I could hear it through the pillow. I heard it rustling and pumping through my ears. It scared me, but it reminded me I was still alive.

Posted By Emily On 11.05.2008 @ 6:37 pm

scared confused sex affair horror movie surprise i was startled yesterday

Posted By emily On 11.04.2008 @ 9:10 pm

startled- when i feel startled it’s like i cant imgaine what i should even do with myself… i’m at the wrong place, the wrong time…. something doesnt add up even though the numbers are there. its not surprise. its a more abstract and unsettling emotion. it’s as though im out of my body and someone’s taken me there.

Posted By Emily On 11.03.2008 @ 9:40 pm

i rarely get startled. I am pretty easygoing. Not much surprises me or catches me off-guard. I have few expectations for most things, so it’s not very often that things startle me.

Posted By Emily On 11.03.2008 @ 9:35 pm

He didn’t spill his coffee. He didn’t stutter. Instead he sat cooly in his chair, feeling the solid metal pushing firm curves into his back. He expected it, so it didn’t surprise him. What surprised him was his very calmness. The calmness that hit him when she stood up, saying “I know.”

Posted By Emily On 11.02.2008 @ 3:16 pm

He used to be so gentle and kind. Then he spiraled into a deep depression that no one could save him from, but of course, himself. Where did he go? Why won’t he come back?

Posted By Emily On 10.28.2008 @ 4:54 pm

Gentle is the taking care of one’s feeling. What else does it mean. who really knows? it cant be described exactly. It’s when a mother cares for her young. The look on her face is gentle and kind. She may be angry at first but then her facial expression softens into a mask of gentleness.

Posted By Emily On 10.28.2008 @ 4:52 pm

i promise it will be gentle im a girl according to the rules you should be pressuring me. i shouldnt want your man hood inside me, i should want to protect my feminine virginity. you promise to be gentle even though i dont want it. i want to feel the force the passion the lust forget love..im sick of gentle its got to be rought to feel it. Dont be gentle… i promise.

Posted By Emily On 10.28.2008 @ 3:58 pm

one word i have no idea what this is but it sounds like an environmentalist thing trying to save the world or something because when i first saw ii i thought it was one world

Posted By Emily On 10.28.2008 @ 2:36 pm

I used to play this game with my mom when I was younger. She thought I played to rough so she would say to me, ” Emily, this is easy” and she’d rubbed my face or pet my head, and then she would say “This is rough” and ruffle my hair poke my sides. I always skipped the easy part, I still loved the rough haha. So, it didn’t really solve my problem of being a ‘rough’ child

Posted By Emily On 10.27.2008 @ 8:11 pm

His touch was gentle on my skin. Pale fingers slowly moved up and down my arm, leaving a trail of goose pimples in their wake. I smile up at him, wondering if he knows it tickles like crazy. I’m sure he does.

Posted By Emily On 10.27.2008 @ 7:51 am

Be gentle with me! I may seem like I can take a hit or two with this smile pasted on my face, but I’m more fragile than you think. Be gentle with me! I’ve had a rough time this year and only want to be as happy as can be. Be gentle with me! I want to be happy with someone else and I want them to be happy with me. I am skeptical and cynical and a little too cautious. Be gentle with me!

Posted By Emily On 10.26.2008 @ 3:43 pm

I’m not sure what my path is right now…it’s winding around and around and sometimes I feel like it’s brought me back to the same place over and over again without moving ahead. It hasn’t really forked in any unusual directions so I haven’t had to make any decisions that really make or break my day, week or month. I guess I’ll have to forge ahead even without that fork so that I can move forward!

Posted By Emily On 10.25.2008 @ 1:35 pm

I’m carving my own way. I don’t know where I’m going, and hopefully some will follow me. Theres flowers on this path and they are beautiful. I bend over to pick one, but hesitate. I take in its beauty and decide to leave it there. I’m taking the path seldom traveled, leaving hope in my wake.

Posted By Emily On 10.24.2008 @ 10:38 pm

there is no real path that we should be meant to follow. I feel if I were to be headed on a path designated for me I would be happier. But is happier necessarily better? I have lived so much and loved so much but hated so much? is that necessary?

Posted By Emily On 10.23.2008 @ 8:54 pm

working toward a dream is the path you take.

Posted By emily On 10.23.2008 @ 12:58 pm

she walked down the path before turning to see the sun set one last time. she knew that the world would be a beautiful place for her daughters to grow up in. But she also knew this would be her last time on this earth, her last time watching the sun rise.

Posted By Emily On 10.23.2008 @ 12:21 pm

the path was green. I fell.

The End.

Posted By Emily On 10.23.2008 @ 9:47 am

There are many paths one can take in life. What’s imporant is figuring out whether you’ve taken the right one or not. Myself, i don’t think i have. I don’t know how one figures that out. That’s really bad, since i just mentioned that the most important thing is thay you figure out whether you’re on the right path or not. I think this really screws me up.

Posted By Emily On 10.23.2008 @ 6:55 am

this is my first time using this site but i guess i will just go with whatever path it take me on. path. that reminds me of the poem by robert frost. the road not taken

two raods diverged in a yellow wood and sorry i could not travel both but be one traveler long i stood and looked down one as far i could to where it bent in the undergrowth

i could continue but i dont wanna get yelled at for plagarism… that was robert frost. not me

i think its interesting what directions our life paths take us on however. oh im done…

Posted By Emily On 10.22.2008 @ 11:13 pm

The path to the garden is made of cement stones. The stones are hidden by large vines, oppressing them, hiding them from view. The path is old and looks like it has been there for too many summers.

Posted By Emily On 10.22.2008 @ 10:51 am

i planted a bulb on to the garden it was very good soil so the plant will grow nice and strong.Every one says that my soil was not good enough so i will test them and see if it is.This year i was in the plant compotition.i will show all them guys that my garden is the best.

Posted By emily On 10.19.2008 @ 8:29 pm

The lightbulb burned brightly against the stark wall. It’s shadow reflected the occupants of the room on the couch and it the shadows moved in rhythm.

Posted By Emily On 10.19.2008 @ 8:18 pm

light bulb, flower bulb.

an idea or a beautiful beginning to a magnificent flower. don’t pick it til its grown then you can enjoy it.

Posted By emily On 10.19.2008 @ 8:01 am

A bulb is a source of energy. A plant bulb is untapped life, waiting to sprout into a flower or grow into a food. A light bulb is a sleeping source of life, waiting for us to flick the switch.

Posted By Emily On 10.17.2008 @ 7:57 am

light bulb. It gives you light to read in the night.

Posted By emily On 10.16.2008 @ 11:08 pm

Bulbs are an act of faith. To dig down in the cool damp dirt, to find stones, to dig deep where the soil gets harder and grittier, is to feel the flesh of the earth. To rub knuckles with the soil of the earth, like shaking one’s own dirty hand. Planting a bulb is to bury a hope and a promise that green sprouts will spring from the food that is the bulb. The heart of the flower rests below the surface of the garden, waiting and chillin’ (chillaxing), for cold days to end and sun to warm the earth. Needs no groundhog shadow to wake it up, the bulb has an internal clock keeping track, to unfurl its green in time for spring.

Posted By Emily On 10.16.2008 @ 6:23 am