I will see her again tonight. Her rose plump lips will deserve my full reverence while her cheekbones ignite the passion within me. This is another day that goes by without speaking to her; another year without speaking to her. It is inevitable for my subconscious to compose dreams that are bathed with the memory of her, and many times I wish that I would not need to be asleep to relive these precious moments. It is agonizing to see her rose plump lips brushing against someone else, someone who isn’t me. During the day, I am assured that my feelings for her have been suppressed, but as the sun sets, my dreams recapture every memory of her. These dreams are difficult to forget; she’s impossible to forget. I have been fantasizing about the dress she would wear. I have …show more content…
I thought about the necklace she would wear; the necklace I gave her. And that how I decided about the only exception that would dare me to dance with her. Only if my necklace remains hanging around her neck. I was growing anxious. The surges of anxiety becoming unbearable, nearing me to the brink of madness. My trembling fingers tried their best to button up my dress shirt and this caught the attention of my mother. “Oh my boy, let me help you with that. You’re terrible at hiding your emotions. You’ve clenched your jaw all day.” She soothed, rushing towards me. “Now, tell me why you’re so nervous! You’ve been best friends with Daniella ever since grade school. Just be yourself sweetheart”. And that, just like every other adult in the world, was my mother's advice for everything. Be yourself. Two simple words, one giant pile of shit. I knew that being around Daniella was not the cause of my quivering fingers. It was that the girl who I’d intended to go to prom with was taken from me, and it was my fault for allowing the thief to commit such a heinous act. Everyone wanted
conception of her encounters highlight her fixation on a kind of lived fantasy blinding her from
“ “You see?” [Mom] said. “Right there. That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re way too easily embarrassed. Your father and I are who we are. Accept it.”
It was an early Wednesday morning, and I lay still in my bed hitting the REM cycle as I dream vividly about a young lady about to be wed. She was dancing in a field of wheat and sunflowers. She was a country girl of whom I had never seen in my life, but in my dream, I knew her. It seemed I had known her family too, they were hillbillies and she was the pride and joy of their family, a shining star on her family crest. She had long, slinky, dark chestnut hair that was pulled up for such an occasion, Decorated with a fresh flower from the fields. She wore a form fitted white dress that looked as if it was her mama’s passed onto her. In her hands were an array of hot pink, sassy orange, and depressed purple Gerber Daisies wrapped precisely with an off white ribbon. She twirled distantly from her family knowin...
This was one of her good days. My mother warned me that she might not know who I was at first.” The attendant doesn’t necessarily openly express her worries but her choice of language reflects her inner emotions.
“Sometimes I wake and find myself standing in the open doorway and not a stitch on my body! I always hear her laughing in my sleep. I hear her singing her Barbados songs and tempting me
After that I saw her there, as if she'd been standing beside the lamp looking at me every night. For a few brief minutes, that's all we did: look at each other. I looked from the chair, balancing on one of the rear legs. She stood, with a long and quiet hand on the lamp, looking at me. I saw her eyelids lit up every night.
...arate occasions; first time in the late nineties, as a betrothed, migrating temporarily to the western state; second time four years later, a ring added, and everything else the same. She lured me into her sensuous web with promises of heathen desire. Now U2 plays and other memories from my teens and early twenties come as I race across streets, bang on cars, rush to join a crowd that I no longer see, so keen and now … different. The girl, English accent, cute in my shirt, stands on the front porch after one of the many sexual expeditions, a relationship based on sex, drunken sex, never sober, and I have the customary cigarette while two other friends sit inside my shadowy glow. They feel my passion, or the remnants.
, As I am sitting here typing this all I can think about its not goodbye, its I will talk to you later. Talk to you when things are right and when you are ready to be my friends again. That's what I believe we need, we need to remember what it was like being friends and then when the time is right hopefully my boyfriend again. I have faith in us that everything will work its way out, I just have to think positive. As much as I want to hate you I can't hate you because I love you.
Hey Klaryssa, I hope that your day has been great so far. Just wanted to tell that you that I’ve been praying that you end up believing me. I know that trust is everything to you, so after breaking it a first time, I never wanted to do it again. I wish I could tell you how those kids making fun of you got ahold of our conversation. After the first time i broke your trust, i promised you i wouldn’t break it again.
again to make a way of living that every man, woman, and child can live by. I don’t believe that to be capable, neither did Andrew. However, he did believe that through your own life experiences you could understand how to better yourself, how to keep yourself from making mistakes, how to make yourself…” “Perfect.” I cut him off early, remembering my google spree a few days earlier.
Hey-hey-hello my dear followers! I hope you had a good time today, because tonight I want to talk about something serious. Recently I’ve been receiving lots of different massages, both anonymously and from other blogs, about how lucky I actually am and how perfect my life seems. Well my dears, never judge a book by its cover! I truly understand what my life looks like for you’ll, and how you think I live.
I think I should tell you I love you. No. Not like that. I recognized that couldn’t be from perhaps the first night, though I did briefly entertain a notion of hoping it could develop.
You’re on top of a hill. Your lungs burn, leg muscles sore. You feel the cool, gentle breeze against you and the endorphins running through your veins. You look over the magnificent view. All the houses heaped together and you wonder, “Where is mine?”.
After I put some pizza rolls into the oven, my bedroom welcomed me back home, and my bed formed to the shape of my tired body. I looked up to see Sonya, my doll that I have had since I was 1 year old, and she was staring at me, wanting me to understand what it is like to wait for me to come back from school every single day. Sometimes I would think about the days when I couldn’t stand being away from her for one night, and all of our little adventures I would make to feel like someone understood me. Sonya always understood me. She would always know what to say; she’d always know how to solve the dilemmas inside my head and my heart.
It was a warm summer day; the sun was shining brightly, .and Anna decided to have some rest. She really needed to have a good rest, because she wanted to look good when meeting her friend Joanna. After having a nap in a hammock, she was ready to spend a great time with her best friend. Anna put her best dress on and went to the station, to meet Joanna hor the fort time. Despite the fact that the girls were very close, Anna had never seen her friend, because Joanna was her pen friend. They were both daydreamers, thus, didn’t use the internet for communication; they only used paper, envelopes, and pens. It was a day that changed Anna’s life, and she couldn’t even imagine, how and with whom will she spend it.