ericbirdbubbles
I refused to go. I am NOT going to move! Why do my parents think that just because I live with them I want to move everywhere with them?! I've got friends here, and I know who I am here, but where else will that be true?
There's more than that in my heart. Some might say it's shattered. But it did start as a puncture. It started with a puncture and grew. Oh, how it grew. It was stabbed again and again until it was so full, oh so painfully full of punctures, and now it is held together by shreds.
I was on a stretcher. Why on earth was I on a stretcher?! All I remember is driving...and there was a big crash...what happened?
"Why am I here?" I ask the paramedic.
My sister wants overalls. Very much. For a while she was obsessed with getting them. She actually never did get any. Overalls make me think of artists, too. Artists with their black stirts under their long overalls in a shed behind their house painting beautiful landscapes and portraits and anything they can think of.
The tension in the air gave me chills. What if she exploded on ME next? What if I was the next victim of her incredible rage? I couldn't stand the uncertainty, the fear. So I left. I turned and I ran, ran, RAN as fast as I could away from the rage, the hatred, and the terror.
I can't wait for Saturday! MaeMae is coming and we're sleeping over at Katy's house...I haven't seen MaeMae for over 9 months, and I've missed her so much...wow. I can't wait! :D
The crust was all that was left of my sandwich. And of course I was still hungry. It was so tiny...geez, why did I have to fail at making these?! I wish I still lived with my Mom. She knew how to cook, clean, everything, and all I knew how to do was sit and cry.
I was the paper distributor in band class. I sat right near the front, and each time our director had something to pass out, I was stuck doing the job. Why was I a trombone again? Really, I should have picked the tuba, they're always in back!
The seeds of hatred were there, waiting for permission to bloom. I could feel them, just as you feel the pain of being pricked my the thorn of a rose, in my chest. They were there, waiting to emerge into the hideously ugly blooms that is hate.
I had one minute. One minute until everything was gone forever. And I was terrified. I didn't know what to do. So I ran. I ran and ran and ran until my legs gave out and I was flat on my back for the rest of the night.
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writing since 2012 · 20 entries · 20 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Ireland showed up.
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the words Ireland reaches for
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