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Damn this fucking bus, always bumping over every single crevice in the road.
I sigh, deciding that sleep was NOT an option, not with the chatter of the commonfolk, and the damn bus.
I watch the trees, and the signs, and the bus stops whir by, in streaks of(more)
the fucking alarm won't stop.
can't it just UNDERSTAND that you want a little bit more sleep?
oh wait, of course it can't, it's an inanimate object.
whoop-dee-fucking-doo. (more)
My throat is sore from screaming in this maniac prison I've created.
My hands hurt from pounding my fists against the walls.
My knees ache from kneeling on the ground, head in my hands.
I'm in my own little slice of hell, and I can't find my way out.(more)
i'm never gonna be that girl.
the girl with the perfect hair, perfect makeup.
perfect life.
i'm never gonna be the girl that always has a boyfriend, that's always surrounded by a group of friends that dote on my every word.
i'm never gonna be the girl whose photos(more)
I sit there for a moment.
pencil in hand, paper in front of me.
I can imagine it in my head.
I place the tip of my pencil down, and begin.

*** (more)
the quiet flicking of pages
reading through the information
quick glances
"i hope he didn't see me."
oh well he did.
whoops. (more)
promise me you'll pray for me.
i'm gonna be gone soon you know.
my weak heart barely beats,
and i can barely see you're pretty face.
promise me that, until i'm gone,
you'll sit here and hold my hand. (more)
A boy and a girl are walking down the street, arguing. About what, no one truly knows.
"You're so freaking THICK, you're so stupid!"
"How am I stupid?! You're STUPID!"
"Oh so, we're playing this game now, really? I don't know if you knew this, but you're also a(more)
sometimes, when you're { happy }, you think everybody's happy too. you don't notice the sad LOOKS, and fisted hands, the s-l-y smiles.
you think everybody's { happy }, and that maybe for once, the sun can come out and SHINE on your dreary life.
you can LiVe.
Sometimes, you can sit alone, quiet, for hours upon hours, thinking about life and all of the bad decisions that you've made.

I never really had a choice.
Your son calls out to you as he gets ready for school.
Mom, he says, Can I wear my blue shirt today?
You smile and help him slip it over his small head, his soft hair reappearing, tousled. His arms stretch through the sleeves, like snakes, burrowing into(more)
The only sound I could hear was the slapping of my beat-up tennis shoes on the ground. My blonde hair whipped over my shoulder as my eyes flashed towards the metal alien.
The footsteps of my companion grew quieter and quieter as he ran ahead of me. As (more)