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I was speechless. Absolutely speechless at the picture that stood before me on my computer screen. I was in my grass dress, looking off into the sky. My arms were gracefully lifted up towards the sun.
"Em." Paul texted later. "You have to see these pictures. They're amazing." "Oh." I texted back. "Let me see." Paul sent me one. It was the picture of me looking up.
I lifted my back from the dirt, pulling my arms free of the grass's green grip. Paul's eyes widened. "Someone take pictures!" he yelled.
"Ugh, there's grass up my nose!" I squealed as Paul busily began sprinkling grass over my mouth. That wasn't the best idea. Paul laughed as I began spitting blades of grass from my mouth.
Me and the girls were swinging when Paul got up and laid on the grass. "Hey!" I called out. "What are you doing?" "Relaxing," he called back, closing his eyes.
~*~ True story. <3 "Did we lose them?" I turned my head over my shoulder, anxiously tucking a strand of my long hair over my ear. Paul looked behind him, his fists curled together.
Once, a father explained to his son, how he does'nt want his son to go out With some children that takes drugs and vandalize, his son asked him, "why?" the father replied "if you stand too long Next...
the truth beckons any that would hear even the deaf are unable to turn their ear helen keller saw our reality a world formed by conformity to a constricting curse living in it from birth she saw...
Sometimes I can't take a deep breath, apparently it makes things alright. I never feel relaxed, always tense and on the verge of collapsing, i'm not worried about anything.
A native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He said "I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one.
That night, Paul begged for me to tell him everything. Everything I wrote here.
His mouth gaped, eyes widened. I looked away again. Heather was mortified. He still held my wrist, tight. He wouldn't let go. The harder I pulled, the tighter his grasp.
Sally went home. It was just me, Paul, and Heather. We sat outside Dunkin Donuts in the pouring rain, relaxing.
I changed my band aids and went to my World Studies final the next day. I wore a long sleeved blue shirt that hid my wrist perfectly. My dad eyed my left arm suspiciously.
"Sh-shaving," I blurted, dipping my piece of flour covered chicken into the egg wash. "On...your arm?" My mom asked.
She grabbed my phone and opened up my texts. I just let her. I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. By the way her eyes burned with flaming anger, I knew she had just read Paul calling me an attention...
I froze. She looked at me with her big, blue eyes. I couldn't look back. I couldn't look at anyone. I got dizzy. "Uh," I said softly. I waited for a lie to spring from my throat. Anything.
I woke up. My depressed state was gone. I felt refreshed and ready for my Chorus and French finals. I lifted up my hand. And my mouth dropped open. Dozens of cuts riddled my left wrist.
After a moment, Paul typed: "EMILY YOU ARE THE BIGGEST FREAKING ATTENTION WHORE I'VE EVER KNOWN STOP PLAYING THESE FREAKING STUPID GAMES OMG GUYS IM SCRATCHING MY WRISTS BECAUSE IM SO GOTH FEEL SORRY...
"That's nice." I stared at the tiny scratch I'd made on my left wrist. "Again," the voice of my depressed side urged. "Again." Scratch. "Again." Scratch. "Paul," I typed. "I'm not cutting.
"You are an ugly, worthless, piece of nothing." I closed my eyes and tried to fight it. The thoughts pouring into my head. "No wonder those people at church treat you like a loser.
I smiled at my small circle of friends as we hung out in the courtyard during finals. My beautiful, perfect, wonderful friends. Paul was the only one that knew about the other side of me.
Alright. I need to let you know that the events of this are 100% true. I am writing this story to help the people that this applies to.
The world is perfect. Everything is great. And you are happy. Love. Peace. Friendship. Fun. Then the storm hits. Everything turns upside down. They betray you. The world burns.