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My life is like a game,
But a joke is how others treat it,
As lies stand lofty,
Whispers are spread,

My life is like a poem, (more)
There was a usual routine. It went on for years, and even though they changed, the routine didn't. The lake was still their meeting place, the dock still their bench. Someone might bring food. Or a gift that could only be given in their special spot.
For the firs(more)
They usually wouldn't notice me. A passing mention in the society column, say: "Among the debutantes starting their first season this year is Elizabeth blah blah blah Cornelia blah blah blah Rhanis blah blah blah..." would be enough, and that's all for that. (Additionally, I would never cause a(more)
Where am I?
Quite lost in a dreamland.
I feel so distant,
Like in a game.

Who am I? (more)
what was the game, anyways?

it was mostly the meandering circles my hair whipped around in as i twirled it over my index finger. it was the notes i passed in class that didn't say much of anything until the teacher threatened to read them to the class.(more)
I was playing hide and seek like any other day with my friends. The day, lets talk about it, was wonderful: hot, without wind and with only few dark clouds in the sky.

"1, 2, 3, 4..." (more)
Al sat with his chin on the table, a scowl settled deep on his features. If he had had the wherewithal to hunt down wherever it was Ed had decided to stash his laptop he WOULD - he just did not want to prove Ed right by standing up(more)
~~~combination "on the table" and "game changer"~~~

"Alright, I'm gonna lay all my cards on the table, Marshal Bayley. Here I am. You want her to pay for her crimes? Fine. I'll take her sentence before you make me hang. You have nothing to lose, meanwhile I(more)

I've never been to a bakery. I thought they were in farietales and Europe. But a Bakery. The smell of cooking yeast. The flour that dusts the floor. The sound of crunching freash bread.