kayjay027
It was ruined but still beautiful. If I touched it it would crumble into ashes.
Are the plates worthy enough? Should I change the paper napkins to cloth? I hate when my mom visits.
He spoke. It wasn't understandable, but he made his first noise. The pride in my heart is insurmountable. I never thought I wanted a child, but seeing his smile, his growth, his speech makes it all worth it. I doesn't matter if I'm only 17.
I couldn't look back. If I did, I would lose my balance and fall. I was ahead. Ahead of all the people who told me I'd always be behind. Ahead, knowing how close I am to the finish line.
It was my fault. I was supposed to look after him. I wasn't told that he was a wanderer. I don't know what to do. I'm sitting down waiting for him to reappear. It hasn't happened yet.
It's the bulge. It's the fact that people stare. It's the fact that I can't see the scale when I step on it. It's the fact that size matters.
I really don't want to go in front of the class, especially after last time. In the midst of saying, "Mark Twain is one of the greatest writers in American history," green chunks flew on Professor Maddley. I fucking hate speech class.
writing since 2013 · 8 entries · 7 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means KJ showed up.
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7days written
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the words KJ reaches for
speechclassfactaheadprofessormidstsayingmarktwainwritersamericanhistorygreenchunkshateable