asteele88
My backpack is a wonderful object. I keep my desires inside, and in the hidden pocket that no one can find are my secrets. In the front pack there are my fears, but in the little pocket inside that (you know, the one can fit a cell phone) is the rational part of my mind that tells me everything will be ok. If you turn the backpack upside down and give it a little shake, some humor pops out, but not too much because I'm not that funny. Finally, if you look inside, really look, you can see the sky.
The light blazed before her. Flickering crimsons, oranges, burnt siennas, golden tones, moving constantly in a myriad of random and yet beautiful ways. The torch slowly slipped from her fingers as her breath rushed away from as the flames reached the sky. Dizzy with exultance, she stood, as sirens whispered in the distance.
train booth. plane booth. hot air balloon. diner booth. There's a couple sitting there. Sharing a milkshake. cliche? Maybe. But how many of you thought of that when you saw the word booth?
I'm sitting on my bed, wishing I could scream, cry, do anything to let the trapped feeling bubbling inside my stomach escape. My bandana collection-- one that I had been growing for 10 years, stares resolutely back at me, as if to say, "you will never be anything different. Ever."
writing since 2011 · 4 entries · 4 days shown up
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the words Annie reaches for
insideboothsittingskybackpackpocketbedwishingscreamcrytrappedfeelingbubblingstomachescapebandana