theresachase
I saw the shiny handlebars through the wrapping paper. No matter how much I was expected to wait to "open" the gift, I couldn't stand it. My eight year old legs and lack of control took the handlebars and tore senselessly. Sweat pouring down my back inside a down jacket, feet pumping furiously on the pedals, racing around the block unbeknownst to "Santa".
I'm so grateful that I have work and friends and a place to live and a good kid and a good voice because i love to sing and the things that get me down are just bullshit lines playing in my head
The most ridiculous shit crowds the forefront of my mind when I need to concentrate on something serious. I obsess over things out of reach, and this is not something new. Ever since I was 12 and my Dad dropped out of my life, I have been searching for something, always. It's tiring.
A word, if you would. The times I've thought about personalities: how they interact, how they repel....and attract, could amount to a tesseract of time. I just had to get something out off the top of my head or else I'd head to bed in a state of disrepair, so I repent at this keyboard in hopes I can sleep more.
I had long awaited the moment when I would have enough to ask. Enough gall, enough fortitude, enough CASH. It was seething through me, this desire to immediately cut and run to get what I had waited so tenaciously for.....but I couldn't leave yet because I had to finish my sensory deprivation session.
Well, this whole site is about improv, no? when I get a chance to spew thoughts in a completely and dizzily orchestrated jumble, it somehow makes me feel like I got something off my chest. I am tired of reading other people's thoughts and wondering why I spend my time thinking about someone else's day.
in this instant i am wailing some inxs at the top of my lungs.....they can never TEAR US APART!!! boom! Saxophone soloooooooooooo! I was standinnnnnnnn'....you were there.....two worlds colliding....
I sat there inside my head wishing myself into the present. If only I could tap into the positive energy at this ever so joyous occasion. My own wedding. And here I am with my mascara running down my cheeks and a stranger's face in the mirror. My crossroads was approached at an alarming rate. How did I get myself into this mess?
I must have owned at least a hundred pairs of shoes throughout my lifetime. One of my favorites was my Adidas Samba Classics I had when I was in 3rd grade. They looked tight with the tight roll jeans, they looked tight with shorts, and went with pretty much anything. I wore them til 5th grade even though they pinched my feet by that time.
It was a cold sweat that brought my guts back into my body. The trickle of salty stress beads down my temples almost gave me away, and if it hadn't been for the doorbell ringing at that moment, I wouldn't have sleeved that ace.
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