lindsayerin
She sat waiting at the bus stop. There wind pierced through her. She gasped. No one was there. Nothing beside her. The cars had gone, their doors flung wide open never to be closed again. Was she the only one who hadn't left?
Imagine if you knew what it felt like to be the cutest animal alive? To always be coddled over. Ooed, and awed at. Scrunched up faces all staring into yours. The constant feeling of being grasped so tightly against ones chest that the vibrations of their heart beat seemed to synchronize with your own.
She was sitting there staring placidly through the window that wasn't quite clear, but faded with age and impressions of passers-by. Her mind singled in on a seething though, "Is it this I am looking for?"
This life, this magnitude of wonder can be considered a heaven or a hell. Only if you make it such though. But then again is there life after death? Or is it all with in this one chance that we get at making something of ourselves? To live for heaven or to live for hell. One wouldn't want to live for nothing after it all.
I felt the heat flow through me. A shocking visceral sensation filled me as the transmission of a soul passed from one body to another. I was now someone else, a girl I had always wanted to be. Sauntering along with my new found essence I felt as if I had the power of someone else's mind at my fingertips, and in a way I guess I did.
She was overjoyed that moment the beautiful girl glanced at her with deep loving eyes. Squeezing her hand as if it were a balloon that she never wanted to float away into nothingness. We both hoped that the moment we felt with in our bones wasn't lost into the nothingness that is the sky.
As a young female the world is seen with in the gaze of the other. She is always looked at, gawked at as if under a magnifying glass. Is she good enough? She must be pretty, thin, and well made up. If she is not then she must not be considered female.
The officers filled in. Not one by one, but in a huge ball of evil. They stormed the streets shoving innocent people aside destroying everything in their path. They had no remorse and showed no signs of mercy. It was their duty, and everyone had tunnel vision not caring about what was left behind.
To rise every day is an intricate routine.
it can seem horrible, monotonous, and difficult.
Or it can be a time of refreshing awakenings.
Classical music never really did the trick for her. Of course, she could recognize its complete beauty and grace and wonder of composure but it just wasn't what she wanted to listen to or play for that matter.