Ten painted momentsOne. The circumstances of her birthTen painted moments5 years ago in Write Memoirs
She was supposed to be a Christmas child. Her sister, older than her by 6 years, kept wishing for a live doll to play with. Much later, she found out that her mother cried when she first heard she was pregnant, all the way from the hospital to the house. Apparently, she had considered an abortion, but under the communist regime, it was illegal and also a very dangerous endeavour. In the end, her mother's mother, in her wisdom, convinced her to welcome the child that was to be born.
During the months of pregnancy, everyone expected her to be a boy. The shape of her belly, as well as other old wives tales, made the whole family believe that. A revolution passed by, and her mother spent the last month of pregnancy in bed. Eventually, she got sick of that, drove to the hospital in an old Skoda with her husband, and apparently said to the doctor she would give birth today, thank you very much.
She ended up being a quiet, round-faced and
Brokenboy7.Brokenboy5 years ago in Write Memoirs
He's on his way home from school, happily clutching a big blue birthday candle.
His mom looks at him lovingly, "Happy birthday."
The car spins out of control and he screams. His mom grits her teeth and slams her foot on the brake pedal. A truck speeds towards them, horn blaring, but it's too late; she reaches for him and cries, "I love "
When he wakes up from the coma, she's already gone.
" you," his dad whispers angrily, cheeks wet with tears.
The boy starts to tremble in his hospital bed. "Dad?"
"Why are you alive, when she's " his dad's voice breaks, "she's "
"I'm cold," his voice is barely above a whimper.
His dad presses his fist against the boy's bruised chest. "I loved her," he gasps, leaving the room.
The boy curls up, hugging his knees. He wonders dully if the doctor's monitors reveal his broken heart.
A year later, he's alone in his room.
"Remember how when I was little if I had a nightmare you'd wake me up, and then I'd fall asl
Proof that Men Can ChangeProof that Men Can Change5 years ago in Write Memoirs
When I turned 1 I still didn't know how to speak
Though I don't remember the day specifically, some relatives told me that they brought a family friend to look at me as I lay on a table, and as they loomed above me making funny faces in the hope of provoking me to respond, I peed in their face. I remember that last part.
When I turned 3 I learned to let go
As a surgeon for the royal air force hospital, my mother was also subjected to the new rule of no pets in the base housing. I was ushered with her and our little brown furred dog into a convoy of about 4 jeeps, stopped in the middle of a wild land with empty fields and trees in the distance, and laid out a small bowl of food for the dog before walking away. I remember watching my mom walking back to the convoy and asking her if we really have to leave the dog here and if it will be able to find food. She said that all animals came from the wild and a part of them will always belong to the wild. I accepted that and walke
november.the day i was born was not a day of sparkling stars and soft-spoken lullabies, of rose-colored memories and warm autumn hearts. time did not stand still, but instead slipped between shrill cries and bitter words. but i would not know; i was not there. i cannot remember my first breath, and i cannot remember what i saw the first time i opened my eyes. but perhaps i never really learned to breathe perhaps my eyes never opened after all.november.5 years ago in Write Memoirs
when i turned five, i discovered the art of being alone.
i learned that there is no celebration song when you are twenty-three hundred miles from where you belong and your family has fluttered off into the sky. i was trapped at the foot of a stranger's bed, a salty ocean tide dripping down my face. though i had no candles to put out, i figured memories of a thirteen-year-old's cigarette smoke were substitute enough i wished california would fall into the sea so this desert would feel more home.
when i turned six,
10 WishesI am 18.10 Wishes5 years ago in Write Memoirs
I used to think about the memories I have in the past with you.
You. Yes you! You who gave me another reason to live, you who gave me another chance to be happy, and you who gave me another way of celebrating with others. Apart from this, are your wishes that I will keep forever, forever in my mind and forever in my heart.
It all started when we were in my birthday party when I was 8. We're still so little that time. I can still remember us playing in the garden, with other kids around us. I can still see the bubbles that the clowns play, I can still see my birthday cake as you helped me blew my magic candles, I can still remember the icing on your nose- then on my nose- then back at your nose. The emotions filled the gaps of our existence as I opened your gift to me and found out that it was a story book that I truly love. We went inside the house, sat in our sofa and made it our throne. Then as the day passed by, we read the story, page by page, word by word. Then up to that
Memories: HIS INSANE THOUGHTSIn the little spaces of my anxious mind, i am dying. In the little, but heavy memories, they are hunting me, like a staggering wild boar in my own forest. My pains and cries. My griefs and sorrows. They are coming out of my head, pouring like thick honey on a jar but with no sweetness. No repentance. No beauty. No life.Memories: HIS INSANE THOUGHTS5 years ago in Write Memoirs
They call themselves wounds that have no healing. They call themselves injustice and bitter memories. They keep telling me in my dreams that they are the fences that guard my inner beast, but by that, they are beasts themselves. They run like fire to destroy my serenety while eating my sanity to death.
In the deepening hour of the night I find myself running from them once again. I find myself shaking, out of my breath limping, while playing with the darkness, afraid of catching the light. My hands are sweating and my heart is thumping like a snoring old drum with no rythm. I am scared. My body felt hot and my eyes are beginning to see the never ending horizon of
Memories You Want to ForgetMemories You Want to Forget5 years ago in Write Memoirs
[Please read artist's comments (either before or after), this is really important to me, thanks!]
She sat at her windowsill, like she did everyday, praying just a little harder for the things she wanted most. She curled up her little frail legs close to her body and rested her head on the cool window frame. She stared at the distant lights of the city and wished her mommy was there with her.
The sky was gray, gloomy The air was stuffy and suffocating. It was late. The sun has already set hours ago, yet she did not come back from work and left Lily home with her grandma, waiting patiently.
The phone rang. Lily couldn't breathe as she remains so still, wondering if finally she'll be able to have her family back together
Just for one night, she prayed.
i am born.I am born. I can't focus my eyes; I stare at the ceiling blindly. The lights, the shapes. Warm touches. There is nothing for me here. I cry and cry. My grandmother baptizes me in the hospital because, in her alcohol-clouded mind, it is an "emergency".i am born.5 years ago in Write Memoirs
The bath is cold and wet. People, strangers, towels, talking, I can't do anything. I want to see but I can't seem to get it right.
Familiar sounds. Smells. Mother.
I am a loser. People make fun of me. The teachers force me to sit next to the bad kids because I am such a "good influence". I love school and learning. I know how to do division, more than the others can say. My only friend Julia is going to a different school for first grade. I know I will be friendless again.
My birthday party is lonely. I wish that I could have a fun themed party, like ev
YearsEightYears5 years ago in Write Memoirs
Her mother gave her a porcelain doll. Her first. It was just what she had wanted. A Victorian girl with ringlets, a blue dress and a pinafore. Love from Mummy and Daddy, the card said. The doll's name was Amy.
Her grandmother never let her down. The parcel was huge - almost as big as her. She knew what it was. She'd dropped hints. She'd always wanted, but never had, a teddy bear taller than a foot. The huge bear was the traditional brown, with a yellow front and muzzle, and a black nose the size of a horse chestnut. He was grinning broadly, and his mouth was red on the inside. She could put her hand in his mouth. She was impressed.
'Thank you, Granny,' she said, giving her grandmother a hug.
'What will you call him?'
Bruno had shared her bed for the past few months. There wasn't really room for
ifyouneverknew.I'm half afraid, just half, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but still half afraid;ifyouneverknew.5 years ago in Write Memoirs
i. Of not being cliché, even though I honestly want to be.
I'm afraid of "I love you"s, and smiles that might splinter and pierce my gums, because
my lips are made of firewood that never fully decomposed into ash and asbestos.
I'm scared that "I complete you", "It was love at first sight" and "I'll never hurt you"
I'm scared these will never come true.
I'm scared I'll never have that cliché kiss with fireworks, because someone hurt me
when I was younger.
He said he loved me, but I swear he didn't.
And there something about the bruises on my arms and the blood in my teeth that
never really told me otherwise.
Happy Birthday to me, right?
ii. Of spiders, because I'm a hypocrite in a weird sense, because I used to love
them, like how moths love candle flames, and I simply burned up.
I used to stare at photos of their long legs and their many eyes that sat like a diadem
on their fragile he
Avada Kedavra二Avada Kedavra5 years ago in Write Memoirs
It's the time when camcorders with small cassette tapes are still in the newest and most crazed invention. Her father holds up the video recorder as he squats down near the cream colored carpet. There's a white frosting cake with little carrot shapes and "Happy Birthday" iced on it as it sits politely on the battered coffee table. The living room seems so much smaller as she sits in her momma's lap. Is it because she has grown a bit? Or is it because of the apartment she's known all her life?
Soon any thoughts about anything but the cake are scattered as an involuntary jerk of her leg lands her foot into the sweet cake.
It's the first birthday that she is really excited about. She's told all her friends at the pre-school and invites all of them to her birthday party. It's at Chuck E. Cheese's, where a kid can be a kid. There are so many people there and she's glad. Her classmates try to beat the car simulation while she climbs in the pl
Circle of Life0.Circle of Life5 years ago in Write Memoirs
"I'm tired, so shut up."
"But, sir, we should have asked the nurse, maybe she--"
"Listen. I don't give a damn. It was already one month early, so who cares about 10 minutes here or there, eh?"
"It was a her, not an it!"
"Spare me the moralizing speech, kid. I've been doing this job for thirty years. The mother's alive and so's the brat, if you want this internship of yours to end on--"
"But the birth date!"
"22nd. 12:05 AM. I said so."
"But you don't know, and--"
"Shut up. What the hell? 22nd, 21st, so what. You're just sorry for it 'cause it's butt-ugly and has hair on its shoulders. That's natural, 'cause it's so early. At peace now? If you're not, you should find your damned peace in another hospital."
She'd said to mommy 'give me the car!' in the shop. Mommy was smiling a lot now, so was daddy. 'Open the presents, dear,' mommy said. 'Little princess'. And mommy was right, she was Transformer Xena and she was the Car Warrior Princess a
And That Was ThatThe day I turned five, I made a wish. I wanted to grow up faster. Afterwards, while we were eating the cake, I told my older sister what I had wished for. She was nine at the time. She looked at me gravely and said, "Charlotte, if you tell someone your wish, it won't come true."And That Was That5 years ago in Write Memoirs
"What?" I demanded. "Why not? That's a stupid rule."
She shrugged. "That's the rule."
"Well I don't want it to be the rule."
She smiled fondly and ruffled my hair. "Sometimes we can't change the rules we don't like. We just have to follow them and do the best we can."
And that was that.
The day I turned six, I made a wish. I still wanted to grow up faster. I was careful not to tell anyone what I'd wished for this time. But my wish still didn't come true.
"May, why didn't my wish come true?" I asked my sister as we were eating the cake later.
"Sometimes it takes time," she told me. "Wishes can be hard to grant, you know."
I frowned. "But what if I want my wish granted now?"
"You'll have to be patient."
The DenWhen I was ten, my dad told me I was growing up too fast.The Den5 years ago in Write Memoirs
At the time, I wasn't sure how to take it. I figured I was growing up just as fast as the rest of the kids in school; our birthdays weren't all at the same time, but we all only had one each year. I asked my dad what he meant, and all he said was that he couldn't believe it had already been ten years. For a minute he didn't look at me, and looked at the ground with an expression on his face that I could never bring myself to imagine again. Even as a ten year old, I could tell that his face was filled with a terrible emotion that I couldn't even begin to imagine. He looked back with a smile, though, and told me to go play with my friends. I was only ten, so that's what I did without questioning. It was a good party, too. I didn't really think twice about what he'd said.
The day after my party, though, he pulled me aside to talk. In the den, a place where our family spent all of our time together, playing board games and talking.
Today Is My Birthday Today is my sixth birthday. I am very excited! I don't have a lot of friends, but my daddy told me that there would be lots of children here today. We'll all play games, like hide and go seek, and tag. I'll have the biggest bestest birthday cake of any princess there is! And I'll surely open hundreds of gifts. I've even got on my poofy pink ball gown!Today Is My Birthday5 years ago in Write Memoirs
Today is my seventh birthday. I've been in school for a whole year now! I've grown a little bit taller, and outgrown many of my dresses. Father said he might buy me two new dresses for my party. we're going to have a big dinner tonight too. All of my favorite foods will be served! Plus ice cream for dessert.
Today is my eighth birthday party. Tonight there will be a ballroom dance just for me. I have a few friends that will be there. Daddy said I have to dance with him first though. I'm going to get my hair and nails done, but I cannot dec
No need for wishesI tugged on my daddy's long coat pocket and whimpered, "When is she coming?" INo need for wishes5 years ago in Write Memoirs
frowned, hoping Sara wouldn't bring that stupid boy with her. Peter always
tagged along with her, and if he came, I knew that, like all boys, he'd ruin
it with his cooties.
"For the hundredth time: soon." Daddy plopped down in a chair, rubbing his
forehead. 'Does he have a headache?' I thought to myself. Maybe I could help;
after all, it was my fifth birthday and Daddy couldn't have a headache on my
birthday. I only loved daddy.
"Here." I looked up from my book and frowned. It was a box with pink wrapping
paper and a pink bow. Getting up, he shoved it at me and muttered, not looking
me in the eye, "Here: for you birthday."
I took it from his outstretched hand and glared. "What's with all the pink?"
He stared at me in surprise. "You're a girl; girls like pink."
"Well, I like blue. Pink is for wimps."
He put his hands on his hips and continued to stare.
"Only boys can like blue, so you can't like
And the world changed.On my first birthday, I did not live in this country that I now call home. I was in a land of sand and dreams and carpets and hijabs. We did not fit in and we did not belong. I would not know this feeling then, for I was too young to remember it at all, but it would become so familiar in the years to come.And the world changed.5 years ago in Write Memoirs
On my seventh birthday, I had to learn to share. I shared it with a girl who also shared my name and birthday. She was my friend and we shared many birthdays to come. My Mother made us matching mermaid cakes, hers a brunette and mine a blonde, to reflect us in real life. We were happy, and we shared.
On my eight birthday, I learnt that sharing is not always right. My younger brother, who was always louder and more confident than I, was beginning to understand that birthdays were not all for him, and he did not like this. For many birthdays that would follow this one, my parents would be
Dear Diary: AnnaSeptember 28, 1993Dear Diary: Anna5 years ago in Write Memoirs
Today is my first birthday. My house burned down yesterday. A digital clock bleeps 11:59PM, but my parents still aren't back from work. I wonder why I don't have cake and presents like my brother did on his 8th birthday a while ago.
September 28, 1997
Today is my fifth birthday. I've been playing the park for hours. My parents are working overtime again, so I only have Molly to keep me company. Molly's my best friend. She's a great listener, but she can't talk. She's only a doll, after all.
September 28, 2002
Today is my tenth birthday. My mother took me shopping. I wish people would stop sending me strange, pitying looks. I'm obese because I have thyroid disease, not because I eat too many sweets.
September 28, 2005
Today is my thirteenth birthday. My life is complete. My teachers love me, Mike is the sweetest boyfriend ever, and Ashley and Carie understand me completely. I have good grades, a loving boyfrie
Ten birthdays in six wordsDied first, happy birthday to me?Ten birthdays in six words5 years ago in Write Memoirs
Don't remember second birthday, oh well.
I had a cupcake for today.
Paper crowns are sometimes the best.
Five pink candles; don't remember much.
Tenth birthday, hospitalized two weeks ago.
No picnic at fifteen; sliced finger.
Sixteen, and I don't remember anything.
I cried on my seventeenth birthday.
Things will be better when adult.
Thanks for the MemoriesDear Diary,Thanks for the Memories5 years ago in Write Memoirs
The rain right now is coming down in a soft patter against my window. It's a calm winter night, and I'm curled up in blankets, that are loose around my knees.
What do memories mean to me? What do memories mean to anyone, honestly? They are thoughts that literally speak to you, adding a hint of happiness, or sadness, to your present emotions, depending on the circumstances. Tonight, my memories seem the most important thing to me. It's just a passing phase, maybe.
Some say I'm too sensitive. Some say I'm too cold. I think that variation has always been a result of whatever might have happened in my past things that I don't think I'll forget. Some of them worth remembering and cherishing, and some of them enough to shred my heart forever.
That's just it. Memories are nothing else but series of photographs of your reactions .your emotions.
I remember dipping my fingers into paint and ruining my older brother's canvas, thinking I had created quite t
Sally + the Best Birthday EverI'm six now! Thought the little girl eagerly. She rushed out of her room and jumped onto her mother's bed. "MOMMY! It's my birfday, wake uuuuuuuuup!" Her mother smiled at the familiar little voice. Once out of bed, little Sally's mother let her wear whatever she wanted for once. Sally clomped out of her room in her good clothes, a big hat, pearls, and much-too-big shoes. "Here, wear this Mommy!" Sally ordered, handing her mother a hot pink feather boa. Her mother laughed, but obeyed. They walked out the house, hand-in-hand, and went down the street to the store and bought Sally a Barbie cake. Back at home, Sally's aunt and cousins showed up to help celebrate. Her cousins were the same age as her, and they danced and sang and greedily ate cake. Everybody gave her dolls for presents.Sally + the Best Birthday Ever5 years ago in Write Memoirs
It'd been a year since her Barbie birthday. Shortly after she'd gotten them, she stopped playing with dolls. They grew dusty in the box in the corner. Now she liked Hot Wheels. She dragged her moth
10th BirthdayI was born on the 10th November 198510th Birthday5 years ago in Write Memoirs
It was my first birthday I was to young to understand what's going on around me
On my 5th birthday I had all my school friends at my party had mask on top my head my mum made me 5th birthday cake it was yellow and blue icing she makes the best birthday cakes ever I had good time
On my 10th birthday I had last fancy cake ever it's was castle cake and it was the biggest cake I ever had it was birthday to remember
On my 11th birthday I was at school I only been at school for 3 months I was in 7 year after school I had birthday tea with my mum's famous chocolate cake I that cake
On my birthday 13th I had my friend around for birthday tea then we went out for birthday supper I was happy
On my 16th birthday I was at school on my birthday I didn't have the best birthdays ever I got bullied at school I got into trouble for some thing I didn't do any thing wrong I also wish my life way
On my 18th I had my family and friends at
Birthday Markers A tiny village sat before me on a landscape of chocolate frosting. Clowns and balloons filled in gaps between buildings. It seemed the kind of place I wanted to live, but my mother kept dragging me back and away. I was supposed to be in my high chair, but back then there weren't always straps to hold a kid down. The battle went back and forth while the houses and decorations were plucked off one by one. A slab of the cake was placed in front of me and I tore into it with glee. The village was put into a box and kept as a souvenir of my first birthday. The cake was not so fortunate.Birthday Markers5 years ago in Write Memoirs
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