abbieannelise

abbieannelise

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flat

I was eternally jealous of Flat Stanley as a kid. It just wasn't fair. This two-dimensional, fictional punk got to travel around the world, while I was stuck here, in this sad excuse for a town. I wish I was flat, then maybe, maybe I could leave, but for now, I guess I'll just be three dimensional and bored.

upper

The upper levels of the stores in the little town resembled lofts. There was lots of exposed brick and furry rugs. It was nice. Although the amount of hipsters was a bit unnerving.

It's basically impossible not think about sex when you hear the word dominant. However, I also think about abuse, and cruelty. How can two words, with such different meanings attached to each, respectively, have something so obvious in common?

I believe that all people are inherently good individually, and that it is the group that makes them bad. It's psychology. One person's belief, leads to another person's detriment. We're all connected, and not necessarily in a good way.

trial

Trials are what makes life worth living. Hardships are the bread and butter of a thriving society, because without them, who would bother to do anything? Inventions are built out of necessity, so as to avoid hardships. Therefore, without trials, we would never reach our full potential.

fried

Fried. There was no other word to describe how his brain felt as he laid on the cold, metal table, with doctors probing and prodding him. The drugs had gone through on their part of the bargain, but his body had not done its part. If it had, he'd be dead. Dead, instead of just fried.

fried

"How would you like your eggs?" The waitress smiled at me as I sat at the counter of the quaint fifties-esque diner, the only kind that would be open at a time like this, or even serve someone looking like I did. "Fried would be preferred," I snapped. She glared, and wrote something on her notepad, then turned. Oops. I sighed. I'd managed to mess up, again. She'll definitely be receiving a hefty tip.

I never had to deal with bullying, but I never understood why kids in movies made fun of the guy with asthma. Like, there was nothing wrong with him, except that he INHALED AIR THROUGH A FREAKING COOL TUBE. Like, what's weird about that?

She had no choice. Even as he sighed ever so innocently in his sleep, and her heart swelled, she knew she had to go through with it. The contract was binding. All she could think about was how horrible she'd feel tomorrow morning, but it was better than being dead. She had to kill him, before they killed her. "Please forgive me," she whispered, as she pressed the pillow over his head. Her soul felt cold.

She closed her eyes and sighed as her ipod shuffled back to the song that melted her heart. Throwing her headphones to the side, she felt her eyes mist over with tears. How many times must she relive the memory of him? It broke her heart with every note.

writing since 2012 · 10 entries · 9 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Abbie showed up.

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9days written

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on this day 14 years ago

Abbie wrote about fried
“"How would you like your eggs?" The waitress smiled at me as I sat at the counter of the quaint fifties-esque diner, the only kind that would be open at a time like this, or even serve someone lookin…”

the words Abbie reaches for

sighedheartdeadfriedeyescoldwordtrialshardshipsperson'stownflatdimensionalclosedipodshuffled