confessions full of jack 23I am getting married...confessions full of jack 231 day ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
A strange arrangement of words, don't you think? My tongue thinks so.
I wanted to postpone/avoid the proposal for a little while longer. I was worried I wouldn't know how to respond. I was afraid a refusal might damage us beyond repair. I wanted to wait, I wanted to be sure. Not of him, no, he has been very clear that he wants me for an eternity and more, he has been very clear that he couldn't possibly get enough of me in one life time. I needed to be sure of myself, I needed to be sure life isn't something I merely tolerate, I wanted to be sure the idea of a long life is not something that I abhor, before getting someone else entangled in my personal wait for the end.
He asked me the question in that silent excited way of his. Right before sleep he put a ring on my finger under the covers and spoke with wide blue eyes. I said yes; matter of factly, simply, as if saying yes to a cup of coffee. There wasn't a no near by. There wasn't a single doubt. No doubt I w
HellHell isn’t so bad if it’s just some demons and the devil. It’s when you recognize the demons as those close to you, and your own face on the Devil himself that the Hell really begins.Hell11 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Wabi-Sabi in a Salon ChairI change my hair quite a bit. I've grown it down to my hips and shaved it off with a bic razor so my scalp was as smooth as a scalp gets. My hair has been purple, green, blonde, red, and even a very strange orange color that was supposed to be "bright auburn". I've done the side-swept bangs, the straight fringe, and the lanky bits at the front you just have to pin out of the way. My hair tends to serve as a landmark in my life-journey.Wabi-Sabi in a Salon Chair1 day ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
In the junior high school years, my hair was all natural. No dyes, no fancy cuts. It was long, dirty blonde, and slightly wavy when I let it air-dry. I wore it in a ponytail at the base of my skull or in braided pigtails. This was before I grew a personality. I think that most of us are cardboard cut-outs of the people we think we're supposed to be in the very early teenager years. My cut-out was a fundamentalist Christian girl who never swore, never lied, and never talked back because she'd already known the taste of sin and was trying to repent.
Not Okay, Like a BookNot Okay, Like A Book.Not Okay, Like a Book1 day ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm okay..."
That's nice. Now, tell me the truth. Did you think I'd fall for that? Your response is lacking it's usual length, and you didn't write in the same way you usual would. Not to mention the three periods you included at the end of your response, a subconscious signal that you have something to say but aren't saying it. I know you're lying. I can read it like a book. Granted, I'm not always sharp enough to catch it, like when I'm tired or excited, but when I ask if you're okay it's because I want he truth and will seek out your lies.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I said I'm FINE."
Getting defensive now, hence the capital letters. You clearly aren't okay or else you wouldn't be so defensive. I don't know why we play this game so often, because it always ends the same way.
"If there's anything you want to talk about, let me know."
Emotion to Literature: C'monI never loved anybody like I loved her.Emotion to Literature: C'mon1 day ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
She was never loved like I loved her.
Princess, The Royal CatPrincess, The Royal Cat11 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Spring/Summer 2004 - May 18, 2015
We found Princess on the side of the road when I was seven years old. We were on the way home from dance class. We were almost at the stop sign when mom noticed a tiny black and white kitty sitting in a ditch. Mom pulled over, and I got out and picked her up. I still remember how her tiny claws dug into my ballet outfit. I like to think that our friendship start there.
The first few months we had her, she stayed outside. She was a feisty little thing when she was little, but she loved attention. I would sit on the front porch with her and she would climb up on my lap and rub her face against my hands. Later in her life, when she became an indoor/outdoor cat, mostly because of her occasional behavior issues, she would climb the swing on our back porch. She would sit there and stare through the kitchen window at us, occasionally me
Chapter twoFinally, when the blood gushed thickly from my wounds, and stained the blade a deep scarlet, the masochism ceased. It was four o’clock in the morning, and I stood over the kitchen sink in the dark apartment trying to avoid making a sound as I turned on the water to wash away the signs of my latest episode. Clarity flooded my mind, replacing the raw emotion that had previously clouded my thinking.Chapter two1 day ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I did it again. Damn it. What the hell am I doing?
Turning off the water, I placed the knife carefully in the dishwasher, and returned to my room. The hallway was pitch black, and I ran my fingers across the wall to guide me. The room that I shared with Dawn was at the back of the apartment, so I counted the doorframes as I drifted like a ghost down the narrow carpeted hall.
One. That’s Anna’s room. Anna is nice. She’s a political science major, and enjoys leftist media, but we get along well. Our conversations typically consist of intelligent arguments regarding politi
Chapter threeI had been writing stories and poems since I was little. I remember one that I wrote about a duckling that was trying to learn how to quack, only I was too little to know how to spell ‘quack’ so I had to change the entire premise of the story to “The Duckling that Said ‘I want my mom’”, or something like that. As a toddler, I’d had my dad read me Peter Pan so many times that, by the time I was two, I could recite the entire story to my baby brother.Chapter three20 hours ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
While I’ve always loved words, it wasn’t until middle school that I discovered the true power that they held. I’d struggled with depression back then as well, but then I met a boy who helped me to find an outlet. His name was James Draper, and he was my Prince Charming.
Every girl dreams of being a princess at some point in her life. As a princess, she expects to find a Prince Charming; that tall handsome fellow with dark wavy hair and a soothing voice who comes into her life and s