patri
Transmisson. That's what it might as well be called, this letter. There's a real stamp on the front, a real address in my hand, but the person on the end seems like a dream. Transmission--it sounds as if I am the captain of a crew when I am alone. But here is my message to the moon...
Chain. On a bike. The ones that get all broken when they come loose, and the ones that get all black and sticky and nasty whenever you touch them because of all the oil. Where the heck does that oil come from, anyway?!
Chains. Wow, when we were little we watched Shark boy and Lava girl and we thought they were cool, so my little sister was Chain Girl. She should've been metal girl. That would've been much less specific and powerful ... wow, I'm rambling now. But rushwrite! I guess that's what it is ...
My own zone. The place I go to when I need to cool off, the place I go to to be apart from the rest of the world for a while. Where I don't think, I DO. Or maybe I'll just sit, and listen to music, or think. It's the place where I'm myself, uninterrupted and unaffected by anybody else in the crazy world out there. They say zoning out is bad. It's not.
Want is such a gross-sounding word. You want, but most of the time you don't need. You want, but maybe it's just out of greed. You want, but you can't have. You want, but you'll NEVER have. You want, but you're just another wanter who doesn't and will never get.
The hardest thing is to ask for approval after you've done something wrong. Yelled at your parents because they just can't SEE what they're doing WRONG! And then in the middle of storming away, you remember that the whole reason you came downstairs in the first place was to ask for approval.
Approval, when people are most afraid of the word
No.
Texting while driving, one of the worst things you can do to yourself.
"I'm setting a bad example," says my mentor in the driver's seat, driving and texting.
Not only a bad example, but a dangerous one.
Someday she might regret it.
Change your ways.
Turn off your phone.
Ah, manners.
They tell you to have manners doing things like having dinner with a friend. But the thing is, manners are what set you apart. They make everything seem so distant, so strange and weird and uncomfortable.
I wonder why people don't have manners when they're fighting or breaking up with each other.
Substances are things. You can have a sweet substance, which could be juice. You could have a thick substance, which could be blood. You could have a clear substance, which could be water. You are a substance ... you.
It was like a knife, stabbing into my heart as I entered the room and my eyes found them. Holding hands. My best friend, and the boy I had been in love with long before her. And she'd lied to me, told me she only enjoyed spending time with him. She probably never enjoyed having me as a friend, because of how fast she betrayed me. Did she think of me when she said yes? Because she should've said no.
"Truth or dare?"
It was a little scary, sitting in a circle with friends both boy AND girl ... there was a hint to the air that was a bit dangerous and a bit nervous. What kind of questions would be asked? What kind of dares would be made? What would be revealed? Would everything ever be the same?
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