linzibee
Wow, how many things have I forgotten lately? I've forgotten how much fun it is to run, I've forgotten how much my thumb hurts when I try to set a volleyball, I've forgotten what it's like to be loved, I've forgotten what a sore throat feels like. What we forget is lost to us, but yet we can still gain it back through our multitude of experiences.
She put the eyeliner on her lower lash, facing the night before her. Working as a stripper was not about just having a tight body, but a beautiful face, so they'd remember you. Eyeliner helped bring that dark look to your face, making sure that they'd remember your pain, and that they'd remember how dangerous you were. That's what brought in the money, because without money, you couldn't live. Money was what drove people to such extremes, that they'd undress in front of you, to turn you on. Money.
My heart closed with a resounding thud, the deadbolt slid across the lock with a click of finality. There would be no more pain, no more suffering. Why love when you only get hurt, when your heart gets scarred and marred and destroyed. Love isn't worth it, if you only get hurt in the end.
She stepped out of the trailer clutching a bruise on her face with a mottled black and purple arm, watching her children play in the dust.
"My children don't deserve this. They don't deserve to be poor.They don't deserve to be treated like this."
But there was nothing she could do. Turning around, she faced her destiny, and the rest of her life, waiting in the trailer, waiting for his sandwich.
As I speeded towards the intersection, I was suddenly struck by a sudden coughing fit. I leaned down to grab the cough drops, and was hit by a car that was rushing towards me in the opposite direction.
Pain. Blackness. Crushing. Tearing. Smashing. All I could think of was how I would never get out, ever. I would be trapped in this horrible monstrosity of a car for the rest of my sorry life.
Puzzled, I looked down at the cryptogram, trying to figure out what it meant and what it could possibly say. It could contain anything from the secrets of the world, to a simple grocery list from a paranoid couple that wore tinfoil hats to protect themselves from the aliens who might steal their thoughts. What nonsense. As if aliens would bother with the thoughts of us mortal humans that worried over nonsensical things, like if our earrings matched our dress, or perhaps if our husband was cheating on us. As if that mattered in the grand scheme of things?
Styrofoam cups and other objects can be detrimental to the ocean's health due to its inability to decompose. This is extremely dangerous to sea life which may try to eat it and then become poisoned. Some Styrofoam cups and plates have paint on them, which can have lead in them, which is deadly to sea life and any sort of life on the planet.
Foreign guys are so much better than the guys you can get in your own home country. They're refined, cultured, and have completely different experiences than you do so you can talk about literally anything. European boys are the best because they were raised to become independent thinkers and not depend on their mothers. I mean American boys can't stand up for themselves nor think for themselves.
Go go gadget! Gadgets are frequently used as tools to help and aid humans in their spying and people-rescuing. Spy kids had gagdets. Spies had gadgets. If you don't have a gadget, you're not as cool as everyone else and you should just go die in a hole. I'm serious. Just... stop right now. Gagdets are the epitome of coolness.
"Do the robot, do the robot!" The crowd cheered as the Marika danced her heart out, acting like a robot, a piece of machinery without a soul.
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writing since 2011 · 12 entries · 12 days shown up
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