Bubbles. Floating to the top. Dancing. Swirling all around and popping. Clustered together, like a little family, all struggling to stay warm. Three of them, all snuggled in the corner. I watched them, my eyes sagging. The two on the end were small - they were so close, they were almost one. Another stayed away, larger, more eager looking. It slowly floated to the pair, inching closer and closer. The two sailed off, around and around, chasing each other, until finally, the big bubble caved. Pop! I couldn’t hear it, but I knew what it would sound like. The two bubbles soon morphed into one. Large, just like the other one. Soon, it too popped. I couldn’t help but sigh. Slowly, I lifted my cup and drank. Sprite. Fizzy and bubbly. I’m sure I killed a few bubbles with that one. More than a few, probably. I drank half the glass already. With a small clink, I set the glass back on the bartop, watching the ice cubes bob up and down, almost tauntingly. I could just make out my wavy reflection in the liquid gold - I didn’t look like a wreck; I was a wreck. No, I was atrocious. Physically, emotionally, mentally, everything. With contempt, I pushed the ice cubes along with my finger, blurring the hazy mirror. I couldn’t stand it any longer. Not just my reflection, but everything. I couldn’t stand it. Weakly, I pushed the glass to the side. I tried studying the wooden bar top. At least it was still. Somehow, it still managed to get me. Everything got me these days. I could feel my glasses slowly falling off my face. No matter. I let them. Plunk. Right on the wood. I hoped it hurt. I forced myself to look up. My glasses laid there, lenses face down, arms outstretched and pointed skyward. My eyes danced along the walls. Bottles of wi... ... middle of paper ... ...tomach churning. She smiled warmly. Lazily, I pulled my glasses off. Set them on the counter. Turned back around. A weird glance from Lola. “You okay?” A gruff mumble. “Fine.” “Bull. Tell me what’s wrong.” I...couldn’t. It was none of her business. Whatever. I didn’t feel like talking anyway. Tammy and Mr. Perfect dancing together. Some bullcrap slow song blaring in the background. Couples swaying. Drinks flying. Kisses in every corner. Wallflowers. A life of the party, shaking her hips, like she did to every song - slow, fast, or in the middle. Vaguely, she looked like a girl from my art class, some shy looking girl who wore big, nerdy glasses and oversized sweaters. Name was Marie. How ironic. Anyway, still. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Done, done, done. With everything. Spectacles on the counter. I twirled them around. Stared into my glass. More bubbles.
I stared into his face, feeling a sense of outrage. His left eye had collapsed, a line of raw redness showing where the lid refused to close, and his gaze had lost its command. I looked from his face to the glass, thinking he's disem...
Try as I might, I can’t seem to focus on the words coming out of my best friend’s mouth, my heartbeat echoing in my ears, drowning out any sounds she made. The table’s edge is smooth, gliding across my hand as I run my fingers over the corner. The droning continued, but I could only catch snippets: seating....invitations....decorations. All of these things seemed so trivial, so unimportant, compared to the thoughts that ran through my head.
"Don't look down. Don't look down. Just don't look down, " I whisper to myself in a semi-calm, but mostly panicked manner as I climb down the red satin silk curtain attached to my windowsill. I tilt my head and gaze up at the glistening stars above, trying to advert my sight from the ground thirty feet below my black leather boots.
...tween Nemecia’s knees, my face in her hands, her attention swept over me the way I imagined a wave would, warm and slow and salty.
I heard a bump behind me, I spun round and saw a book on the floor, it flipped open to a ...
I unwilllingly walked through the entrance of regret and guilt. With teary eyes from what happened the night before, I didn’t know what I could say. All I thought was ‘It was an accident’ but that didn’t matter anymore.
You groggily slid your eyes open, slowly sitting up and blinking around in search of the annoying contraption. It was marginally harder to see anything without the aid of your glasses, and turned searching into a game of guessing what this or that blurred object was. It turned out that somewhere in the night, you'd managed to knock the clock into the incredibly small crack between your bed and the table, ad you had to fish it out with your
'I saw him at the end, like as if I saw him down a perspective-glass'
Water. This is my first thought as I slowly manage to pull my eyes open and squint against the harsh sunlight streaming through my bedroom window. My mouth feels like I’m holding a cotton ball between my teeth and I blindly reach for a water bottle on my nightstand. As I bring the bottle to my lips I nearly cry out from the splitting pain that is coming from my head. I stumble to the bathroom in search of Advil and pause when I glance at my reflection. My hair is disheveled and I’m still wearing last night’s clothes. My eyes are bloodshot and mascara coats my under eyes, my lips dry and cracked. The events of the previous night play through my mind. The pounding music that makes my head hurt just thinking about it, the stuffy basement and a
As you walk in the front door you find yourself standing in front of a glass
I let out a withered sigh, which caused me to choke in the middle of yet another sob. I had had enough. I weakly pulled myself out of the pool and walked to my towel. I grabbed the huge, orange and white stripped thing and wrapped it around my shivering body, hoping to find some warmth and comfort; but even my monstrous beach towel could not cut the chill I felt inside. I started to walk to the changing room past the hundred faces I knew nothing of, but by now were familiar. I had searched each face a hundred times hoping to see someone I knew. Finally, I realized that I knew none of them, and the person I was looking for just wasn't coming.
...ed eyes, vision growing fainter, body becoming paralyzed, and the hum of the hospital machines muting to a dull throb. And slowly I rise, rise into the escape of pure bliss.
I look out the window and see massive buildings, millions of colorful lights lights and above it all a dark night sky. It’s almost eight, and I rub my eyes in an effort to wipe away exhaustion from the long day. I struggle to get up and slowly walk over to the huge window. I look down and see hundreds of tiny cars whoosh in all directions, I think I see people, but it’s too hard to tell. I sip on my cappuccino while thinking about today’s case. I admire my speech and the carefully thought out questions for the main witness. I remember when I first started my practice: a shabby small office on a side-street, working for a snobbish little man who always annoyingly patted his head to make sure his toupee was still there. I was so inexperienced and scared.
It was a maddening rush, that crisp fall morning, but we were finally ready to go. I was supposed to be at State College at 10:00 for the tour, and it was already eight. My parents hurriedly loaded their luggage into the van as I rushed around the house gathering last minute necessities. I dashed downstairs to my room and gathered my coat and my duffel bag, and glanced at my dresser making sure I was leaving nothing behind and all the rush seemed to disappear. I stood there as if in a trance just remembering all the stories behind the objects and clutter accumulated on it. I began to think back to all the good times I have had with my family and friends each moment represented by a different and somewhat odd object.
Nevertheless, I still felt nervous talking in front of class, and I felt that my identity had ran away from me leaving me just a moving, breathing, and a seamless creature in front of the mirror. and so my journey began.