It hurts, the hole in her heart just wouldn't fill up. Every time she thinks about her, she would feel tears pricking from the edge of her purple like eyes. She felt so forgotten, atrocious, heartbroken of what she had did. If only she didn't say those words, things would have been different. The pain was unbearable, it felt like she was walking on the edge of the sword, almost falling in the deep pit. It would have been just them laughing at stupid things, having a nice uncommunicative day, or them going out on a small date. But that happiness had ended for about a month ago.
Why did she say those three hateful words to her? What made her think that saying those words would change her love one? Questions would pile up in her head, making
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Mumbling words of how idiotic the composer was acting, and having a few swear words escape from her mouth.
Once Maki stopped having her minor laughing fit, the third year placed her hand on top of the first year. Silent had taken over once again. The two treasured this moment, like this was the last time they were going to see each other.
"Hey, Maki, can you turn around at my direction for a moment?"
Following her direction like she was told, the crimson-red hair girl felt a small lip on her own. Her face was growing red, and it was only a tiny peck on the lips. If it was a full kiss than, Maki was pretty sure she would have a nosebleed. The only thing that the older girl did was giggling at her reaction, and admire of how adorable she looked.
"W-what was that for?"
The only response from Nico was a wink, and stuck out the tip of her tongue, and placing it on the side of her lip.
Maki stood up from her position and grabbed the empty mug, and placed in the sink with the other dishes. Going towards the dark living room that felt ten times more emptier than before. Maki sat down on the couch as it sank down under
conventions. She, as a woman, was told to keep silent and to do her work quietly.
They ask questions such as “Is there nothing in our hands something you could not bear to contemplate, to even guess?”, challenging her reply and increasing the tension in the narrative, following by making claiming her incompetent in a way, since she could no longer “…remember being young when language was magic without meaning?”. They finally put her down for her “answer is artful, but it’s artfulness embarrasses (them) and ought to embarrass (her).”
how much she hates the fact that she was not affirmative in her words to Mrs. Price on
“Oh you noticed!” Rachel said trying to be coy, “You looking pretty sexy today too babe!” she then wrapped her arms around his waist and pecked him on the cheek.
tears welling up in her eyes and all she wanted was to be back home
The woman leaned in so close, that Lorelei could feel the woman’s breath on her face.
The date was October 31, 2002. The time was two in the afternoon. The little children across the street walked outside their house to carve a massive pumpkin. The pumpkin had a thick brown stem and a bright orange color, which glimmered in the afternoon sun. Something was really strange about the pumpkin, but I could not put my finger on exactly what was different. The children, who were abundantly excited to go trick-or-treating in a few hours, started carving the round pumpkin.
knew that she didn't love him, but still proceeded to commit the rest of his life to her. Consequently, a story of forbidden passion, hatred, and jealousy unfolds.
Like so many innocent, selfless girls, untouched by the world, I forgave him. The pain dispersing through my body reminded me that I was strong and all I needed to do was heal. I would cry without tears at first, the sadness inside me so intense, that the hollowness in my heart would weigh me down. My heart’s deep hollowness was so immense, that the loudest shrie...
her and his lips on her lips. His kiss was like white lightening, a flash that spread, and spread again, and stayed; and it was extraordinary as if, while she took it, she felt each thing in his hard manhood that had least pleased her, each aggressive fact of his face, his figure, his presence, justified of its intense identity and made one with this act of possession. (James 636)
Handling adversity is something that all people must do throughout their lives, but it is the ways in which individuals approach adversity that sets us apart. There are two contrasting ways in which you can respond to adversity: 1) you can either curl up into a ball and accept the outcome as it is 2) you can take control of the situation and work hard to make the resulting outcome in your favor. I faced adversity within sports when I was diagnosed with a physical disorder as a child.
Identity-“Ones personal qualities.”Identiy is something only he or she can fully define. My uncle says I am affectionate,cheerful, and calm. My grandmother sees me as slim, pretty and sweet. My dad described me as perky, cheerful and happy, my mom says beautiful, gentle, and self-conscious. These adjectives describe me accurately, yet they are only abstract versions of me. Adjectives cannot begin to describe me and I aknowlege these descriptions for what they are, a condensed translation from my outward self to the world. It is impossible for anyone to understand me completely because nobody has experienced the things I have. My mother has never cherished a raggedy doll named Katie and my father never spent hours upon hours making collages and scrap books for his future children. My uncle never hid in the back of a pick-up-truck and traveled four hours to New York and my grandmother has never walked hours in the rain looking for the Queen of England. My identity is something only I can define.
She was different; she liked you. You could have been together; you could have been happy for once in your miserable life. It was a shame she had to snoop around and get involved in a case she knew nothing about. Maybe you didn’t have to kill her. Maybe, just maybe, you could’ve just confessed. But now it’s too late, she’s dead; you killed her. You got her blood on your hands. The only person that ever loved you is dead. You stare at her. She is still beautiful, you think. Then you realise that you loved her and still do. You ask yourself what drove you to do this and you respond, “She was trying to get away… I did it on impulse… an accident…” You kneel down in front of her, and lift her limp body off the ground. The mush doesn’t bother you. Then, without thinking, you pull her close and cradle her in your arms.
Your lit up, elated smiling faces made me happy even in the darkest days. Although it broke my heart all at once when I turned all that happiness into misery. How I broke our family the way I broke myself. I can’t live with what I did to you all. I felt bad and guilty because you loved me when I was so bad for you. I tried numerous times to push you away, to make you un-love me so I could take the plunge quicker and so I couldn’t hurt you anymore. My attempts always failed. Your compassion pained me as much as it consoled me. I often wished that having you in my life, and all the other privileges I had was enough, but I could never find what I was looking for. Perhaps it didn’t even
storyf which only she knew. At first glance they were not so great but after her