jastaus
Light brown, creamy, hot and comforting, this decafe cappuccino was just what she needed to take the edge off of a pretty crappy, cold Monday. Until, she realized it wasn’t decaf.
I just couldn’t get a handle on it. It being life. I just couldn’t cope. I was 33 years old and I had yet to accomplish anything of worth. Or, anything at all, really. There seemed to be forces out of control holding me back, forcing me to fail. That’s not true, of course. It was all of my own doing.
Her welfare was all that mattered now. There was no way that I would survive the night, but she had to live. So I did the only thing I could think of, I threw myself onto of her and prayed for the first and last time in my life.
Janie was a brighter star than me. All my life I felt blinded by her. She walked first, talked first, made better grades, got better boys. I often found myself hiding alone in the room I shared with her, as she ran around outside being the center of the neighbors, lost in a sea of jealousy. I didn't regret that. I didn't realize that it is often the brightest stars that are dying the fastest. The brighter they shine the closer they are to their finically explosion, and boy, at the end, Janie sure did shine.
The house was full of Buddha's and crosses and old dirty books of faith, but there wasn't a single believer left inside these walls now. Their faith all died with their mother's last breath, buried 6-feet under right along with her.
This personalized hydration system is all you need to survive the new world. Make sure you get yours today before the appoccypous comes.
There was no way to resolve this. Sometimes you just lose. She had all her bags packed and ready to go, lined up neatly in the hallway, a little row of soldiers. This time was really it she was leaving. This time...
Her resolve was waning, as it usually did. This time though, it went before she even really got started. New Years Resolutions were usually never kept by anyone, but in her case giving up on January 2nd was a new record. She didn't know wether to be proud or ashamed.
She sat down and continued the story, again. She wrote the first chapter, again. She has been doing this over, and over for the past 3-years. She will never finish anything she starts.
They didn't start out this way. They were not always thieves. One of them use to be a doctor, one a business owner, the other a manger at a bank. All three of them had names, families, respect from their community. But that all changed when the war broke out and now they had none of those things, all they had now were each other and whatever things they could slyly steal away in the night.
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writing since 2011 · 131 entries · 127 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Trista showed up.
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