n00br
half a week has gone by and already college is passing by in a blur. I wish I were home when I have no one to sit with during dinner, lunch, or breakfast. I have no one to hang out with unless I explicitly call or text them to meet me.
I feel utterly pathetic, and it's only been half a week.
Shit this year may be absolutely awful.
Shit shit shit. I am freaking out, all these people and one person in the sea, and I don't know how to stay afloat. I need someone to help me swim.
The banks won't take my money when the mud crumbles off the edges of my jeans because I look sketchy. Ironic- I just stopped by after my practice at BAND CAMP after a strenuous day of dealing with AP homework. Banks are bitches.
They claimed I could have found this check right outside the door and could be claiming to be Annie. LOL Im annie wat.
He didn't grasp the concept that she loved him.
She said it over and over again, but she could see the words visibly deflected, like the light reflecting off of his eyeglasses on this sunny day.
"I'm sorry. I should not have said that," she muttered hopelessly as he walked away without a hint of the problem at hand.
the principal at the high school puffed out his large mustache, gripping his mug of coffee so tightly.
Danny sat across from him, watching the steam wash up and invade the small hairs above his lip.
The principal was new this year, replacing Mr. Yates, who had simply grown too old for the position. "This guy has no idea what he's doing," Danny thought quietly.
Slighted again, slapped away by the desert sun, the tiny criminal slithers away into his tiny crack of a home, in a rock battered by daily storms....
God damnit, why can't people leave me alone when I write and stop staring at the screen when they walk by?
The criminal peeks out of his front door and smiles at the snails that seek some faster-paced world.
The puddle splashed up as the bike tire rolled through, sending flickers of mud up the white t-shirt back. He hardly noticed the dirt flying through the air, flicking his face. He smiled, and that smile was never ruined by the dark smear on his chin. He smiled and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen before in my life, despite all the dirt on the ground, the grey grey clouds overhead, and the unbelievable quirkiness of the entire situation.
Heartache.
Damnit, this word would take more than a minute to talk about, to write accurately enough.
I'd rather have my eyes gouged out with a spoon than undergo heartache in its truest form.
yet it's a right of passage...
Today, it's a right of passage and you're not all "grown up" until you've had a broken heart.
God damnit, I still feel it every day.
Once your heart breaks, it mends, but it's never going to be perfect again. Scars will always remain.
Ruby red eyes glittered behind the forest bush.
A growl, a soft murmuring growl. Almost inviting.
The sun shined down, highlighting the greasier portions of its black fur. Its fangs protruded out, framed by a snarly, wrinkled grin. The dog bolted, it attacked, it killed, and it vanished.
I am willful.
I am willing to change. I am willing to push myself. I am willing to move past that night, a year ago (a little over a year, honestly) so I can dance again.
That night I cried and called Joe at 1 am.
I called Joe at 1 am and he picked up, and I poured my broken heart out for him to hear.
I am willful, and I am willing to move on from Martin, and the burning sensation of pain that comes up with every thought of him.
And every thought that he wants me back.
She jumped up higher and higher on the trampoline, building up enough height until....
A backflip.
But still a bit too low...
...She landed down on her head, her body flopping down into a contorted mess on the stretchy fabric, sagging beneath her unconscious weight.
Feet away from the toy, her mother stood and ran over, screaming "Are you okay!? Are you okay?!?" even though it was quite obvious that her daughter was not, in fact, okay.
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