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I can be anything. Trolla-lola-lol. I can't stop typing. I think I'm too excited. Trolla-lola-lol. I have just been invited. Trolla-lola-lol. to troll dot com. A world where I belong.
His lonely tears where washed away, by the unforgiving rain. He had hidden himself away from the world, he had hidden himself from the shame. Now he was a Wolf's Head, a wanted man of the woods.
Here you are. Where You have always been. Here, with your people, your buddies. Everyone loves you, right. After seeing photos of all of you, since pre-k, I realize -once again- that I am a mistake.
I want to feel like I belong Not sure if this is right or wrong. All day my head feels rushed. Too many thoughts collide. They are not worthwhile ones, They only say; I want to belong.
You look at me, With ice blue eyes, You're picking out my flaws. I'm like a stranger, Isolated, Kept behind closed doors. You make a point, To pass me by, Yet act like I'm not there.
Sad but it's true Happy to be you. Masked in your smile Hurt in a little while.
Hey, this is a story I wrote in English for an exam :) So yeah, hope you enjoy. If I hadn't been so scared, I would've found it funny how a few pieces of iron welded together petrified me.
Evil girl watches, She watches with glee. "This is the most funny Sight man shall ever see. Two freaks are hugging, How sweet and how cute. Too bad for her He does not make a good suit.
She was that sort of girl. Cast out, people remarking 'Nice shoes' sarcastically.
Heartbroken. Ignored. Isolated. Backs turn on me to push me out the conversation. Eyes glare at me in warning. Stay away from her. Threatening and menacing. Back away.
I never knew things could feel so terrible. I'd always wanted to do this, free fall from the sky as if nothing in the world mattered, but while falling, it seemed like everything mattered more.
Little Man sits at home in front of the computer. He hasn't got dressed today and doesn't see a point. He's unfit, unloved, and despises his own ugly reflection. Where he lives is dreary and so grey.
Try to fix things. Make them worse. Try to apologise, make it a mess. Try to explain my predicament, try to enlighten them. Make it complicated.
This is the third and final section of my short descriptive story I wrote when I was 12. It's best if you read the first 2 sections before this one.
The cold air bit my face, and i wrapped my mercifully thick coat even tighter around my imperfect body, not sure if i was trying to block out the cold or the world around me.
She sat alone on those dreary days, in the back of the classroom where no one saw her or spoke with her.
As I get closer to school, it gets worse. My heart beats faster, I think it is gonna come out my chest. I say good bye to dad. I make sure I tell him I do love him.