Lou knows that I don't sleep soundly because he doesn't need a music box to doze off. He finds comfort in banter. I like to bury myself in poetry and riddles. Words that are spoken only to fill the void in the light of sun become grandiose by nighttime. The things we do that drain our energy during the day are glorified by the moon. He was sitting to my right at the bus stop. I figured I probably needed to join a support group for the way I was continuously let down by my tendency to fall in love with strangers on public transport, but his clammy hands and shy eyes that were blueish gray told me he wouldn't mind it if I did. He directed his attention from a chunk of gum on the floor to me and asked where I was headed. Instead of replying …show more content…
But don’t act like you don’t live inside of your head too.” I handed Lou a journal from my bag and insisted he read through it, but he didn’t because he wanted to see if our hearts could hold the permanence to whatever it is that we’ve created. The first time it rained heavily since Lou and I decided that we were alright together was the night his hug felt unfamiliar. Some anger and electric feel in the sky made me feel like I was ready to love him the way I wanted to, but I thought about his eyes and how they matched the small storm we were having. The thought of how flowers grow when storms pass made it easier for me to create a sanctuary in his arms. I never liked being hugged from behind but gently rocking side to side with Lou and having raindrops in between comfortable silences as our soundtrack provided me with the kind of warmth I’d expect from investing in an expensive heater or the coziest of sweaters. My daze is interrupted by Lou’s whisper, “Six months and I don’t get why you’re still …show more content…
The first thing he told me was how my powerful strut in high heels reminded him of Lou’s mom. Then he proceeded to make a remark regarding how out of tune Lou and I appeared. Lou hurries to reassure his dad, “You just can’t see how we are doing fine because we’re so cute together.” To which his dad questions, “How much time do you need until you realize that being fine isn’t enough?” I then ask what more there is supposed to be and nobody answers. In that moment of silence between the three of us, I remembered the joys of sleeping alone. Lou’s patience with my hesitance made me feel weightless, but faithless was all he really felt. Dating me shouldn’t be a superlative to make up for how noncommittal he is. It hits me that people can sting and be aloe at the same time. I made my way out of the kitchen to the front door as soon as I took the cake out from the oven. Lou quickly follows me and tells me that I can’t just walk out on him on his birthday. My chest felt heavy but I decided to say something anyway, “You can pretend like I’m not going anywhere. My watch is on your bedside table. Happy
Far back, in the midst of a time when the world was very young, there lived a princess named Lucille and a bunny named Fluffy. Lucille was a beautiful girl with chocolate brown hair, and eyes as blue as the sweet summer sky. Fluffy was as white as snowflakes and as soft as clouds. He offered plenty of razzmatazz but little manners. They lived together in a tall castle, covered in green vines and grey cobblestone, hidden in the dense forest filled with animals and nature.
Sammy was a girl that she was shy. She had her group of friends that she trusted and said everything. But in the school was a girl that she was mean and thinks she can judge everyone. One night Sammy was about to sleep but in a moment to another she was restless. Because she gets scar and she didn’t even know. She saw an ugly monster, she was cold she was like a cold corpse. Sammy says“ It’s nothing, go to sleep”. But she hears a voice telling her“You know that’s not true”. When she hears that, she starts shaking like a little Chihuahua.
Everything was going great at Oakville farm, I mean everything was normal and okay how it should be if you don’t count that the fact Donna came home late last night. She came home around two or three o’clock in the morning when it was pitch black outside, and believe me this isn’t the first time it ever happened either, maybe it’s not that big of a deal to you but to me it is, Donna here is the farmer’s daughter. While Mr. Salem is away she’s the one in charge of us,and because she’s the one in charge of us we haven't eaten in two days! Mr. Salem always made sure we were cared for, and was handled with love but , Donna on the other hand she just doesn’t care. There’s a lot of us here on the farm, we have a variety of animals here like horses,
I also don't own the idea, it was requested to me by the wonderful Amanda. Thank you so much! I hope I did this idea justice.
Oh dear! I can't believe what I just did, it was so hilarious, I hope
The director threw me the ball a few times, and I practiced hitting it in order to give me confidence. One time when he threw it, I hit it. There are two cameras next to each other, and the ball went right through the middle. My jaw dropped when I saw that. I couldn't believe it.
At the same time: Snap-Whoosh-Growl-Snap-Whoosh-Growl! Return with a fierceness, causing the rest of the men to separate into two groups with some moving to the left in search of the origin of the beastly sounds and the others moving to the right, combining their numbers with those searching for their missing brethren, while Gottlieb stays behind.
I knew it would happen. As much as I tried to stay optimistic, to put off my feelings of suspicion to an old man's negativity, I knew that this case would cost me something more than just my reputation in the town and that didn't even really matter. In Maycomb, reputation is a day by day concept. Sure, we have more than enough of our fair share of immovable gossipers, and drama kings and queens looking for a story to spread. But in everyone's own mind, if you did something stupid, immoral, or just mildly humorous or entertaining, it was the talk of the town and you were judged terribly for a few days, a few weeks tops. Then the whispers, and glances faded to conversations over coffee, and deep inside jokes. My reputation didn't bother me one bit.
I’m sitting in the sunroom, turning the delicate pages of Flowers for Algernon, and feeling the artificial breeze through my hair. I love listening to the sounds of the creek and the songs of the distant birds as I read. It is my only glimpse into what the outside world feels like. The gray storm clouds coming in are reminiscent of pocket lint as I dive deeper into the story. I read about the betrayal that Charlie Gordon felt when he realized the world was a bitter place, and the people that he trusted turned out to be against him. I wonder if that is really how the world is. How can something so vast and free be so unforgiving?
Maudire les actions du diable ! After years of working my fingers to the bone, this is all I get! The three people I valued most have left me. Ellen- my dear wife- passed away. My son – the one I trusted to be there for my family, after my time– has gone. Also my doll, my Mattie, with her sweet smile, her resilience as strong as a bull…Très bien! Qu'est-ce que je vais faire? My land, and my shattered family are all I have. I feel nothing… except shame, fear, and sleepless yearning for my loved ones. What bothers me most is … they all left me. Life would be so much easier with Lawton pulling the cart, Mattie looking after the younger ones and my precious Ellen… just staying here with me. I've been double-crossed by MY family!
2.32. The number that looked me in the eyes my first quarter of Junior year and told me I was a failure. 2.32. The number that causes a chill to go down my spine. Asking to go to the bathroom during class so I could make sure that I read this right. Could it have been a mistake? I'm sure I got more B's than this. 2.32. I had chosen to blame my father for this hideous GPA. I had chosen to blame my teachers for buying their teaching license on the internet. I blamed everyone else, but the one who was most guilty was looking back at me in the mirror. I had been the cause for this junky GPA. I had let all the events in my life get to me and expected that I would get my usual GPA by never doing work, never asking for help. I had isolated myself for a few months, I couldn't do homework
Everything that begins, ends. And everything that ends, has it’s second coming. Whether it may be an idea, an event, or a person; ends are not final, just the means to restart. James knew this, so did John - so they could never long for each other, only anticipate the day when they once again would embrace each other like they once did. Their love was eternal, they insisted. That the sun and moon would cease to love before they did. That tides would quell and darkness reign. But the sun must set and so only then can the moon rise; one must lay low for the other to soar. Every day, week, and month are they doomed to chase each other, only to miss by the slimmest margin. Given sentience, they would yearn for the day they came together,
You ain’t goin’ to like this one bit. You know Lawrence? That sweet boy… that poor sweet boy…. They lynched him. Those white-skin monsters lynched him! I didn’t attend to his death of course, but I’ve seen that rope around his neck, John. You want to know how I saw it? It isn’t because they told me and showed me his hanging corpse. They put a picture of that sweet boy on our doorstep. Can you believe the nerve of them?! Putting a picture of that boy hanging there on our doorstep!
When I first saw him, I was sitting in an auditorium complaining to my mother about how cold it was in there. We and hundreds of other student-parent pairs were lined up in rows of the large room waiting to be told what to do by upper-class college students in matching tee shirts. I was scanning, like always, for any interesting guys. Upon finding any that appealed to me, whether by genuine attractiveness, unique clothing or just a pleasant aura, I would watch, study, and try to figure out everything about him, like his attitude, views on the world, and his favorite color.
The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning to the four-story walk up I inhabited for the majority of my young life. Instead of the pavement surrounding my former building, the final turn of our seemingly endless journey revealed the sprawling grass expanse of a baseball field directly across from an unfamiliar driveway sloping in front of the red brick walls that eventually came to be know as home.