Some Simon/Holly dialogues"We should climb up there—we'd have a fantastic view of the ocean," said Simon, gesturing to the nearly vertical pathway that wound its way up the side of the cliff.
"No," she replied with complete and utter finality. "No, absolutely not, that has 'no' written all over it."
"Come on, live a little—have an adventure! Leave your comfort zone!"
"I don't want to have an adventure. I'm content with safe mediocrity, thank you."
"Stop being an asshole, Simon."
"I might be mistaken, but I think that calling a terminally ill person an asshole inside a church might be a sin," he told her.
Holly shrugged. "But didn't the Bible say that telling the truth will set me free?"
"Well, that's life," said Holly flatly.
"Yes, but I don't have the greatest track record at life, do I?" replied Simon. "It's like I missed the memo. Really, I don't get why it's so difficult for me. What is life, anyway? How do you life?"
"Sometimes it just feels like I'm going crazy," said Holly. "
Melodrama"Oh, good morning, Simon."Melodrama5 months ago in Personal
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Simon looked up from the bowl of cereal he was fixing himself and grinned. "Good morning, yourself. Just fixing some breakfast before we head to town—no other food here and I'm half starved."
"Good luck with that," said Holly, regarding the pile of bran flakes that sat inside the bowl. "There's no milk left."
"There's no more milk. Ran out of it last night and I didn't have time to make it to the grocery store."
"But I already poured my cereal!" said Simon with distress.
"That's unfortunate," replied Holly. She then watched with perplexity as her temporary flat-mate set the bowl on the counter, walked over to his cot and collapsed into the sheets. "Simon, what are you doing?" she asked.
Simon threw an arm over his face, covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow. "All that trouble for nothing," he moaned. "What is this? What is my life?!"
"This is a cruel world." The young man rolled onto his stomach, dragging the covers with him until he
Benjamin Jastrow : Altruism or Self-Abnegation?An important point in the characterization of Paper Stars is that each character has one very important characteristic that defines them as a person and influences their day to day lives. Each of these traits are supposed to be both the character's greatest asset and their greatest flaw. They both build the character up and destroy their progress. And in this journal, I wannted to share with my readers an in-depth analysis of Benjamin Jastrow.Benjamin Jastrow : Altruism or Self-Abnegation?7 months ago in Personal
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Easily the antithesis of Sara, Benjamin's defining characteristic is his altruism, and all of his other traits are influenced by it or are a result of it. His mild, gentle nature is centered around his carnal fear of causing others discomfort, which, in turn, becomes his own discomfort. His kindness is not limited to only those he cares for--it stretches to all those he meets, even when they are cruel to him, and he willingly shoulders the blame for any and all grievances around him. He is a human scapegoat, an alacritous martyr willing to give u
Phone-Call #1: February 18th, 1961"He—Hello?"Phone-Call #1: February 18th, 19616 months ago in Personal
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"Is this Miss Halliburton?"
"Who on earth is calling me at this time of night?"
"Take a guess."
"I—what? Who is this?"
"Wow, you don't even recognize my voice. I'm offended."
"Is this some sort of prank call?"
"After all we went through."
"If you don't tell me who you are and why you're calling, I'm hanging up right now. It is too damn early for this."
"Then I'll just call again. Well, actually, don't hang up, I've only got fifty cents left."
"For God's sake, who the is this?"
"I already told you to guess, Ilex—I thought you were clever."
"Took you long enough."
"Simon, it is two in the morning. What is wrong with you?"
"Well, I've got six pounds of shit building up in my airways, I can't breathe without an oxygen tank and I'm an asshole."
"I already knew that. Now why are you calling me in the middle of the night—and did I hear you say you're at a payphone?"
"Yes, there's one on the bottom floor of the hospital."
"What are you doi
I wrote a sad thinginserting this into the epilogue so I can ruin more lives <3I wrote a sad thing3 months ago in Personal
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Who's Benjamin? I think. That's an excellent question.
Benjamin. A boy who paints what he wants to see. A dreamer. A friend. A warm summer night on the rooftop, a hot air balloon, a sea of whispering grass backlit by a kerosene lamp and the fireflies that flickered like sparks from a bottle-rocket. A match-giver, a soft-spoken superhero, a tear-choked goodbye in the shadow of the stars. A boy who was, and will forever remain seventeen years old, who died to make his bird fly once more.
But what happened to you, Benjamin Thomas? What happened to my poor, sweet boy? What could you have done to deserve the darkness that befell you despite all of your hopeless, misguided kindness? Could it be that you were born into a world that was just not ready?
You lived your life before its time—a life meant for the pages of a beautiful book, had your story only been written! You could have been a poem, an epic: lyrical, grand,
saul sceneDespite this, it was a nice affair: the family was overjoyed to have Saul with us and it was the first time I had dined anywhere else besides my room, which pleased Adele to no end. It was wonderful…until I walked Saul to the front gate.saul scene7 months ago in Personal
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"Why?" I asked him as I watched his crutch kick up dust into the warm night air.
"Why do you get that look in your eye when you speak to Daniel? Has he offended you in some way?"
Saul bit his lip, but didn't respond.
"It isn't him, is it? It's Benjamin. You dislike him because of his brother. Why do you hate Benjamin? He has done nothing wrong!"
"Sara, don't you understand that he did this to you?" said Saul, his voice stretched. "I know he was a nice boy and that you loved him, but you've turned him into a saint in your min. You've canonized him, and you don't realize that if it weren't for him, none of this would have happened to you!"
"It is not his fault that he was persecuted for something so out of his control," I spat, sudden anger s
new synopsis for tTTS and PSThe Things That Staynew synopsis for tTTS and PS2 months ago in Personal
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The year is 1965: a year thrumming with promise and hope and change all around the globe. But for two people, change seems out of the question. Their worlds are rigid, stuck, fixed—and completely contradictory to one another. Holly is a frazzled and reclusive mess from the wrong side of the tracks—well, the wrong side of everything, really—struggling to keep herself afloat as she copes with the loss of her nursing school scholarship two years before. Simon, on the other hand, is charming, arrogant, smart-mouthed and spoiled rotten—the only thing he has ever wanted for is a pair of proper lungs, as his own have been slowly ruined by the effects of Cystic Fibrosis. When Holly joins a peculiar non-profit agency in hope for nursing experience, their worlds are suddenly conjoined a little too close for comfort. Through bickering, old maps, collect calls and a great many letters, Holly and Simon are intertwined in a journey to find a future they never knew existed
Scene from 'The Moon in the Door'Based off a recent experience I had while visiting a cemetery to see my great grandmother's grave.Scene from 'The Moon in the Door'7 months ago in Personal
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Shiloh stopped for a moment, pausing in front of an especially old tombstone. He knelt and ran his hand along its face, feeling the indents of the words.
Matthew Jonathan Mayland
April 15th, 1904 January 1st, 1921
Loving son, caring friend.
"Shiloh, what's the matter?" asked Emmy.
He didn't answer. He just crouched, his fingers freezing to the stone, his breath rising in clouds from his parted lips.
"I'm scared," he said finally.
"Why are you scared?"
He shook his head. "All these people here, all these people under us, they were once alive, right? They breathed. They smiled. They cried and sometimes the wanted to die. But they all had their own lives and stories and problems, and we don't know any of them. We don't know anything at all." He bowed his head slightly. "The kid underneath this grave, he was my age when he died. He was seventeen. He had a mum and a dad and a family