emmadietz796
history is a funny thing.. we all know it tends to repeat itself. my best friend moved next door in 3rd grade, and before that had moved to sleepy hollow when she was only 6. who would have thought that she would move again? i guess it was inevitable,.. just one of those families that can't really stay still. well now i know how her olds friends felt. it sucks
i take the train into the city. it happens almost every weekend, because i love going to times square to go shopping. its really not a very long ride, and usually im with my friends. but when i ride the train alone i usually people watch. i find that you can learn a lot about a person by watching them for 40 minutes.. i like to make up stories about why they are on the train
beloved or to be loved? which one is the better choice is not known to us. is there even a difference? after all who can label emotions? there are no combinations of letters that can describe minute differences in feelings. no way to express how I can be beloved and still not be loved...
forgetting is probably one of the hardest things to do. i can forgive, sure, but when i have to let go im not so good. forgetting you though, that was the hardest thing ive ever done. in fact, that im writing this shows youre still in my mind. i dont really know why though after all that you did to me. i guess im just really bad at forgetting someone i loved...
her face was painted a thousand colors, shades of blue and black and green, meant to allure and captivate him. the thick coating hid the things truly beneath- the ugliness that lay within, masked by her paint; an outer shell of beauty.
the chalk creeks across the board, dulling as the porcelain hand drags it along. a pioneer to the untouched landscape, leaving in its wake words that will teach a class new and unimaginable things... if only chalk were really that grand
she steps out of the limo, shimmering black dress matching the glistening exoskeleton of the car. Her flowing chestnut hair radiates beauty, teeth straight and white with eyes an azure shade that makes the ocean seem dull. how i wish to be in her place, beauty queen with total power at her disposal from one angelic look
the backpack is growing heavier each day i return to school. i load it with all my materials, the books that have your name scribbled all over them, pens and pencils chewed in deep thought. my backpack is the perfect container for my memories of you...
a montage of our life together flips through my head, starting from that day we met as little 4 year olds, unaware of what we would become. time fly's by and though we may not know it, we are growing closer, bound to be together. our hands clasped tight in every picture- human puzzle pieces. until the final picture thats stuck on repeat in my mind. you saying goodbye forever.
remember all those days that we would spend together, lying in the grass hands entwined while the golden sun kissed our motionless bodies? it hurts to remember. i miss you every second of my existence, as if a piece of me has been torn out, left behind in those memories...
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