thoughtsofmine
He bowed and I curtsied, I felt like a princess. Before I knew it, he whisked me off to the dance floor and we were waltzing from one side to the other. I felt like all eyes were on me, but I didn't dare look around. My eyes were glued to his as we twirled. After the song ended, he led me out to the balcony, eyes still locked on mine. I knew he was the one.
Etiquette. I was forced to take a class for school in 6th and 7th grade for etiquette. Place the napkin in your lap while eating, on the chair while you're away from the table, and on the table when you're finished with the meal. Etiquette. It's what's expected in certain societies. What happens when you enter another? It's foreign. Culture shock. Oh dear.
It plagued me forever, the thought of my friend dying of her own accord. Her poker face was that of an expert, a professional. You would have never known she was suicidal if you were just talking to her normally, I would have never known if she hadn't told me. Me, her best friend, unaware of her depressed state. It terrifies me to this day.
It plagued me forever, the thought of my friend dying of her own accord. Her poker face was that of an expert, a professional. You would have never known she was suicidal if you were just talking to her normally, I would have never known if she hadn't told me. Me, her best friend.
I sipped from my straw and looked up; there, I saw him. The cutest boy in school and I had the biggest crush on him, except he didn't know who I was. But he walked over and sat down right next to me!
"Hey," he said
Hey? I thought. He may know me after all.
What is the last straw, technically? It's different for everyone, I suppose. It could be very small or very big, but it's the part of the argument where everything turns for the worst
What I mean is...I like you. All of those sweet comments, sly remarks, sheepish grins, and too-loud laughter mean that I like you. I don't know what your responses mean though, those extra glances and chuckles in response. Boys are so confusing...
I've been expecting you. You never said you'd come, but I knew you would. I'm too important to you. So much for that, I'm leaving and never looking back and you're going to be sorry you ever hurt me. So long and farewell, you'll miss me when I'm gone.
Everything stems from something and the stem stems from the roots. Without the roots, we would have no firm grip on whatever we are gripping: reality, the ground, ourselves. Without the stem, there is no growth, without growth, this world does not evolve. We would be running in the same place for centuries. Without the stem, we would be stuck in the stone ages.
My thoughts stem from one thing to another, it's rather interesting to trace it all back to the first thought I had. I always wonder how I get from one thing to another, it's usually memories that do the trick. My train of thought is rather odd, I don't think other people would understand which is probably why I keep them to myself the majority of the time. Emotions run deep but I don't share them. It's a problem sometimes.