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Please comment with anything you may have to say. This is a true story. It was not over exaggerated in the least. I entered this version of this story in the news and tribune.
I am the girl that doesn't go to school dances, or games, and when I do go, I sit in a corner and read a book. I am the girl that people look through when I say something.
You criticise my hair, Talk behind my back, Point out all my flaws, And everything I lack. You stab me with your eyes, Every single day, And then you smile -sickly sweet- And beg for me to stay.
Wanted: Best friend Duties and skills Laugh so hard your face goes red Laugh even harder When you forget why your laughing Bake cakes with me Talk with me til our jaws hurt Make my house your second...
The hardest thing was going home and facing the rest of my family. When I got home I took a good look at everyone, because I didn't know how many times I would be able to do that anymore.
Every time I dare to speak to him. I either talk too fast or miss my chance. But when he smiles at me I put my head phones on and listen to my favorite song.
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.
I'm a figure of round about 6 foot. That makes me tall for a child yet short for a man while I sit in the age group where your in-between. I'm neither fat or skinny, I'm very much an average kid.
A place of learning. A place of friends. A place of teachers on every end. A place of a's. A place of b's. And for the better or the worse the c's and d's. Math and science. Lunchroom riots.
03.09.96 - 30.04.12 R.I.P Liam Collier, for some reason i carry on hoping and thinking and wishing all this was just one big nasty dream but hey it isnt :'( babe you was one in a million.
I felt the chilly crisp air freeze my little toes as I walk to the car with my freshly cut hair. I roll up the window in the car and turn up the heat.
It's the strangest thing.
With some prom is coming up, and I am no exception.
That time when your reading a book and you relize 3 hours have past.
I sit here, silhouetted on my bed. I pull my brush through my lush, blonde hair, while I look in my mirror. I flash a smile, and keep brushing my hair. I run my fingers through my hair. Soft and...
The sleepy sun rose over the horizon and sent gold beams of light threw my green curtains that woke me up. I shifted and shivered before getting out of bed and walking to my closet.
The main reason I love writing is probably because it was a talent I picked up by myself. My parents have no idea how much I love to write because I don't think they'd know how to react to that.
Chapter 1: Beginning (Part 3) At first, all I could only see how selfish Denny was being. I had no care or thought for her happiness.
True story; Not long ago me and some of my friends, four of us went on a camping trip, local about thirty minutes from my home town. It started of such a good day it was sunny weather for once.
Thud Thud, Thud Thud, We sound like race horses stampeding the ground. Tick Tock, Tick Tock, We all watch the clock. Ring Ring, Ring Ring, We all run out, Bags to our sides. Slam.
I'm just sitting here. In the back of my dads truck. On top of a black toolbox. The toolbox is warm. I enjoy the warmth. Because the wind is chilling. My legs are cold in these shorts.
Highschool. Something I was looking forward to when I was little. Something I wanted to do instantly. After all these years, I'm finally in high school. And, I don't really like it.
Me. a "popular"?. hah!!. no!!. i just have people that care about me thats all. Me. a "crybaby"?. no!!. im just bipolar, a teenage girl on PUBERTY, and deal with shit. Me. a "teachers pet"?. please!!.
Tuesday. My first lesson was History. Ms Clifton seemed pretty angry this morning.