The person’s life was simple. Easy, if you are one who believes in such silly ideals. She was positively normal. Never had to worry about the thoughts of another. She just simply lived. Just as though no one had ever influenced her. She sat. Stared. Ate. Drank. Slept. Lived in the same apartment for many years. Lived in the same city her whole life. Lived with the same man, with the same friends. She was comfortable. She was bored. But the person’s life was simple. Uncomplicated, even.
“Persons missing presumed dead” said the signpost. Underneath were several photos. Most of the people in the photos looked serious and unfriendly. When Jane found her own picture she was pleased to see it was one in which she was smiling.
These are the people we watch. Well, the people I watch anyway. I’m really a spectator, a listener, an observer, sitting on the edge holding sunglasses. I like it this way. I never needed a racing heart, but you, you’ve done me in.
persons we are
look at us, how we go
those streets are well versed in footprints
familiar with many
also there are those that they only met once
and each corner still can hide many mysteries
and each light gives a different angle and variation
and nothing is ever quite exactly the same
you’d be surprised how something you think you know
changes
the only difference was the sun was higher
– or lower
and no matter what we think we know about a person
– or a street
we can never know it all
thank god
we’ve all still got the unadorned cracks to hide in
safe and comfortable from the light
by why does it matter? i am just a number on 06.21.2012
People. All my stories are about people, nowadays. I used to write about animals. I sometimes wish I could go back to that stage. However, now I find humans far too interesting. Even though I can’t portray anything close to the full range of emotions and experiences that people go through, I can’t seem to stop trying.
“Write about any persons who’ve helped you throughout your life.” That’s what the writing assignment said. I never did understand why Mrs. Karr wrote persons instead of people.
one word that describes me is failure, as soon as i feel I’m taking a step forward i end up taking 3 steps back. when will i change the way i think? how do i fix myself?
The person’s life was simple. Easy, if you are one who believes in such silly ideals. She was positively normal. Never had to worry about the thoughts of another. She just simply lived. Just as though no one had ever influenced her. She sat. Stared. Ate. Drank. Slept. Lived in the same apartment for many years. Lived in the same city her whole life. Lived with the same man, with the same friends. She was comfortable. She was bored. But the person’s life was simple. Uncomplicated, even.
creautures of pain, happiness, joy and deceit.
dedicating their life to the pursuit of something worthy, yet, doing even the impossible not to achieve it.
“Persons missing presumed dead” said the signpost. Underneath were several photos. Most of the people in the photos looked serious and unfriendly. When Jane found her own picture she was pleased to see it was one in which she was smiling.
These are the people we watch. Well, the people I watch anyway. I’m really a spectator, a listener, an observer, sitting on the edge holding sunglasses. I like it this way. I never needed a racing heart, but you, you’ve done me in.
persons we are
look at us, how we go
those streets are well versed in footprints
familiar with many
also there are those that they only met once
and each corner still can hide many mysteries
and each light gives a different angle and variation
and nothing is ever quite exactly the same
you’d be surprised how something you think you know
changes
the only difference was the sun was higher
– or lower
and no matter what we think we know about a person
– or a street
we can never know it all
thank god
we’ve all still got the unadorned cracks to hide in
safe and comfortable from the light
People. All my stories are about people, nowadays. I used to write about animals. I sometimes wish I could go back to that stage. However, now I find humans far too interesting. Even though I can’t portray anything close to the full range of emotions and experiences that people go through, I can’t seem to stop trying.
“Write about any persons who’ve helped you throughout your life.” That’s what the writing assignment said. I never did understand why Mrs. Karr wrote persons instead of people.
one word that describes me is failure, as soon as i feel I’m taking a step forward i end up taking 3 steps back. when will i change the way i think? how do i fix myself?