RachieFly
Oh, how our God is merciful. He is worthy of all praise. I, Caleb, am willing to admit that and wanting to shout it from the highest mountain tops. I want everyone to know what he has done for me. He has forgiven the unforgivable. I deserve to die for driving drunk and killing that girl...but because of Him, I am saved.
Much to my irritation, the elevator continued going up instead of down to the first floor like I wanted it to. I let out as sigh and stare at the rose in my hands. It seems liked everything in the universe is keeping me from Hannah. First the family, then the car, then then traffic and now this. The longer it takes, the more anxious it's making me. Is this a sign?
I am a fool...but not because you called me one. But because I believed you when you did. I thought you were right, so I acted the part and I played it well. But over time, I learned that I'm not one. In fact, you all are the fools...for putting me down and laughing. You'll see.
See that woman sitting on the porch? Her name is Jill. Jill wanted children ever since she was young. She wanted to love another human being with as much intensity that she loved herself with, and even more. She wanted to give her fleshlings the same great childhood her parents gave her. She wanted to be a mother. Jill would never be a mother though. For Jill's womb was barren...and it always would be.
I knew a boy named Neon. He was a unique kid, but his name was suiting enough. It only could've been more perfect had his last name been 'Lights'. He was always bright and glowing. You could never catch him with a frown on his face. He seemed like a nice kid. Too bad I didn't bother to get to know him.
My brother spilled melted butter all over my white pants. What was he even doing with melted butter?! This was the last pair of white pants I owned and this was the reason why. I can't keep anything white with Darren's clumsy self around. It's hard enough keeping regular colored clothes clean and now I have to deal with this too. He said he's sorry...but Darren's always sorry...
They were casting for the play. It was finally my chance to shine. Finally my chance to show that I could be the actor everybody told me I couldn't be. Finally. You can imagine my anxiousness; the sweat accumulating on my forehead and under my arms. The dryness of my throat...and you can imagine the tears in my eyes when I didn't get the lead...or any role at all. I guess everybody was right; I'll never amount to anything.
I love the smell of soap. It didn't used to always be like that. I actually used to dislike the smell of it...that was, until I met Damian. Damian was strong, tall and handsome. Damian smelled like soap. Ever since then, I adored the smell of soap. Now I smell it just so I can imagine him. I think I may be a little obsessed...
Simplify these problems. That's what it said on the homework assignment. Five equations that looked like a foreign language to me. I'm the smartest girl in my grade; why can't I get these? My pride won't let me ask for extra help. This is why I loathe math with every fiber of my being. Why can't it be more creative like writing or science...or even history? Or why can't I just understand it?
I handed him another beer. I knew I shouldn't have. I knew how he got when he drank. I knew what would come next...I knew, but yet and still I gave him the beer like he asked. I guess you can say I asked for the sudden slap that came next. As well as the punches. And the kicks. I asked for the blood to run down my from my broken nose. I asked for the bruises on my arm. I asked for it all...and all because I wanted to make him happy. I hope he's happy.
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writing since 2013 · 36 entries · 35 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Rachel showed up.
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the words Rachel reaches for
nownumberbrotherdieguesseverybodylovedfinallyhopebookgonnawishrememberstophappyscared