abbielou
The stem of the flower rested in her hand. She clutched it tightly, nearly snapping it in half.
Rewrite your history. Make it better. You can be anything you want to be. Don't let the past hold you back. Never repeat history. If you must make mistakes, at least make original ones. Break free of the chains of repetition and make your own history.
Tiny, invisible structures. Beauty in their infinite complexity. Fascinating that the most important things are so small.
I waited in the train station, watching the board of departures, waiting for them to announce the track my train would leave from. I was finally getting out of here, out on my own with no restrictions. I was free. The train would take me away from the station and away from my past.
Red hearts dangled from the ceiling of the school gym. The decorating committee for the Valentine's dance had really outdone themselves this time. The word "beloved" was spelled out in fairy lights over the entryway, the theme of the dance.
The sun rises over the trees. Orange and pink paint the sky. The air is still, the silence soft and drowsy. It is early and the world is still sleeping.
Mentor. Perception is shaped through knowledge and knowledge is shaped by teachers. Power. Influence. Teaching the next generation. What is taught becomes reality and truth.
I sit in the corner. The room is filled with people, familiar people, people I have grown up with all dressed to impress. I am dressed similarly, my pink satin gown covered in sequins, as I sit and wait for my date to come back with drinks.
Every moment. Every second. It passes me by in a blur. Tomorrow, this will be insignificant. It will pass from my mind. It will never have happened. Now, it is my everything, it is my reality.
writing since 2011 · 9 entries · 9 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means AbbieLou showed up.
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trainhistoryrealitysitdressedpinkshapedknowledgedancestationfreepastmomentsecondpassesblur