carlyrenee
Walls are all around me. As I slowly peel my eyes open, I attempt to recolect the moments before I wake up in this place. I remember going out with some friends. It was a crisp night, we wandered from bar to bar, letting the drinks slide down our throats without much thought.
These walls are confining. They are walls that I have built with my own bare hands, with the hope of shelter and warmth. But, they have ended up trapping me. It is funny how the things that we most yearn for are also sometimes the things that will destroy us.
One hundred thousand twenty four people. One hundred thousand and twenty four people were knocking at the door. The door was splintering, the walls were crumbling, the floor was caving.
the rasberries melt on my tongue as I wait for the judge. Who knows whether or not I will make it out into the sunshine again for a long while, so I may as well enjoy these final moments before I step before the crowd who will decide my fate.
And so it began. The whirlpool of emotion, the lusty gazes, the fleeting moments of ecstasy, it was the beginning of the end.
Despite my best intentions, the conversation had not gone well. We had all sat around the dinner table like the picturesque suburbian family that my parents had strived to make us.
the bow flexed as she took aim for the deer in the distance. It was a perfect shot. But, alas, as she let go of the arrow the deer noticed her presence and bounced away.
Whether or not you accept it, life will move on. The world will continue its hustle and bustle, you will have the choice between joining or wallowing in the sorrow of whatever battle you may be fighting. Do you choose to wallow, or do you choose to live?
I ran my hand up and down the railing as I walked to the lightrail station. It was smooth enough that it must have been freshly painted. As i walked, I daydreamed abut the day the group of us took the day off to make the drive up the steep and windy road to the large peak the locals called Redtop Mountain.
The texture of his skin was like silk, not the texture of a real man's skin. Not the skin of a man who was strong, weathered, the type of man who she had always known. But, there was something a bit comforting about his smooth body, it was a feeling of comfort she had never known.
load more entries