hannahlee2014
It all started out as simple congestion. Clogged sinuses. A running nose. A sore throat. The germs migrated down, down, into my chest and filled me with remorseful, painful fits. Now a new age of disease has begun within me.
Photographs. Text. A large volume. All the dreams, hopes, aspirations of the young student created in concrete forms. A simple photoshoot or a published poem can do so much for someone who desires so little. It is a desperate attempt at making something of herself, so rarely reciprocated.
You and me. Together. I want a perfect combination, yet all I've been given are recipes for disaster. When will the perfect recipe come? I mean, the epitome of gourmet desserts! It's not that I haven't found you yet, but I haven't even fully unraveled the ingredients of my own persona!
Stacks and stacks and stacks of books. The homework. THE HOMEWORK!!! My desk is never clean. I don't have time for such menial tasks, thus they remain in stacks. Piles and piles of books I want to read, books I have to read, books I should have read...so...many...cursed...stacks...one day...one day, I will do something about them...but for now...rest...
I don't wish to feel distinguished. I want to be a clock maker. I want to do my best to refine the clock with the provided tools. I want to make it sparkle and shine and operate like a dream. However, I do not want to be the time keeper. There's too much pressure in that, and when I leave, who will maintain the time without the clock?
Just write, she says. The words will come, she says. I feel like I’m writing a bunch of movie clips with no connecting plot lines, waiting for some sort of logical meaning or depth. I have yet to find such a prompt as this.
He held out his hand. She placed hers delicately inside of his, and stepped into the carriage. She didn't know where he was taking her. She didn't realize what she had done...or what he intended to do...
Take a chance. Make a change. Go make something of yourself! Blah blah blah...cliche cliche cliche...you get the picture XP
They placed their instruments with care, each perfectly attached to its partner in a perfect destructive path. Setting the fire loose, they watched as their masterpiece became their greatest pyro-act yet.
Lightning. Striking the ground with a momentum powerful enough to shake the foundations of the earth. Overpowering. Unstoppable. It tears our world apart and leaves us destitute, without an escape. It is force.
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