annyiswriting
The barber decided to tell me to go bald, since I had little hair left anyways. But how could I cut these few strands of hair? My hair was my life. Now, it was going to be cut by this insolent barber. How dare he even suggest this idea. I shall refuse, but then again, I may look better bald. I look old with this balding hair. These damned genetics. What should I choose? To go bald, or to keep my hair and refuse the barber's offer?
The bench was white and cold. It seemed lonely, for no one occupied it. No one was sitting on it, and no one had even spared a glance to it for a long time. What a desolate bench! Should she go sit on it? She pondered, stopped midway on her track, and gazed back. She decided and walked over to it and sat down, smiling to herself. It needed someone to understand.
The mango was a deep yellow, a yellow with a hint of orange in it. I could already taste the juice in my mouth simply by gazing at it. Oh, the sweet bitterness it filled my heart with, as I realized that I could not buy a mango with my current money. No, I may never live to eat the mango again. Such color! Such texture! should I miss... Dare I say that I would die rather than never eat a mango again? Should the God hear it, yes, I would.
The power outlet sizzled, and then sparks came flying out. Suddenly, I felt a jolt in my hands as if something had shook it really fast. I immediately dropped the cord, and jumped back, yelping at the intense weird feeling. My hands felt numb and distant for a few seconds, until I could flex my fingers again. I had just been electrocuted for the first time.
The sage knew everything. Nothing could go by the sage unknown. So, the problem was how were we going to start fighting? The sage would know as soon as any formal rebellion started to form. Oh, we all had thoughts once in a while going against him, but this was a whole different matter. A rebellion has never occurred, so how can we be the first to start one? Could we possibly do it? The sage would know... He captured young attractive women from our village and used them as slaves till they were old and useless. He was a cannibal, then eating the old women. He claimed that human flesh gave him power. What atrocities he had done, what outrage it had brought from our society. But nothing was done.
The tangle of all things in life was too intricate, too complicated for me to solve. Everything was connected, and a false move in untangling it, may result in the whole mess of everything again. How can this be solved? Life is complicated as if there are 1000 strings all tangled and messed up together. Our job is to untangle this mess, which does not sound as easy as it does.
The microphone screeched as she had brought it too close to another microphone, causing the audience to cover their ears. This was not a delayed response to her speech, was it? Her nervous fumbling with her hands caused her to drop her notecards. What the hell, she could do without those anyways. She looked across the sea of faces, the lighting just a tad too bright, and she squinted as she tried to remember her speech.
The needle pricked her. She felt a little sharp sting on her finger as she pulled it away. Immediately, she felt tired and drowsy all of a sudden. She had slept fully last night, but now, in the middle of the afternoon, she was feeling dizzy. She stumbled as she tried to stand up, and just ended up slumping down. She closed her eyes, and they would not open again, not for a long time.
The alarm rang shrilly in her ear, causing her to jump out of bed and look around wildly about herself. She looked around with squinting eyes, adjusting to the light, and realized that it was only another monday. She had been woken from a sweet dream to dreadful reality. She groaned as she looked at the clock and realized that she would be late if she did not hurry. At least at the time, if she got out at 7:35, she could see him.
The pills weren't enough. She needed something else to end this pain, this depression, the feeling that she did not belong in this world and that nobody wanted her to. How could they possibly expect her to feel better after taking a few lousy white round capsules? They were pills, a mere relief from reality for a little time. What she needed was a stable and permanent relief. She needed love. No, better, she needed to die.
load more entries
writing since 2010 · 52 entries · 52 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Feather&Tears showed up.
13longest streak
52days written
4entries / week
the words Feather&Tears reaches for
nowloveheartfamilyrealizedhandsimplystoodablehopespideralreadyblooddecidedmoneyground