windchime
She was honest. Not that she wasn't fair, or beautiful, or all of those other traits one looks for in a woman, but she was, in particular, honest. And that was something I could respect.
Intense is the last word that could possibly describe my afternoon intro to grammar class. Unless, of course, one is speaking of the resultant writer's cramp from the notes.
I believe that having the most powerful mind in the world would be a curse. You wouldn't be able to relate to other people, you would always be hounded to use it, and no one else would really understand your predicament.
I stare in wonder as the snowflakes drift down through the air. Being from Texas, I don't see these much. As one lands on my fingers, I can't help but smile.
What's with all these connected topics? I mean, I know we're playing the random game, but still. Doesn't this guy ever think about anything besides trains? Ugh, my turn. How about rabbits?
I stood at the station, waiting for the #3 train to come. There wasn't any rain yet, but I had brought my black umbrella just in case, and it stood now casting a small shadow over the ground and my purple rain boots.
He threw his arms around me and cried, "Where have you been? We've been looking for you for all this time, but you... but you... you haven't come home! You haven't been back in years!"
My beloved is gone today. I have no idea where she went; I just woke up and found this note sitting here, waiting for me. I've been here, reading and re-reading it, ever since. I guess I just didn't believe she would actually go.
writing since 2011 · 15 entries · 15 days shown up
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stoodraincigaretteinsidewaitingreadingbelievearmsairfingersunderstandhoneststacksfardarkdrury