Dear Daddy's GirlDear Naive 15,Dear Daddy's Girl2 years ago in Adult More Like This
You're ignorant as Hell.
You dress in baggy blue jeans, wear an oversized hoodie every day, and never let your hair down. Students at school, and even your mom, think you're gay… and you don't even know.
All of your classmates blame you for a burn book that circulated after that Mean Girls movie. Everyone thinks you're a jealous bitch and secretly they mock you. How can you not see that?
Your teachers are all positive that you cut yourself and that you're always on drugs. Even now you have no idea why they ask you to take your jacket off during class. Could it be that you always wear long sleeves?
It's okay, sweetheart. I had to find out the hard way, too.
Right now you're probably wishing your dad was home. He's the only one that will read your stories and tell you how creative you are. You don't have to beg him to watch movies with you, and he'll listen to your favorite songs without calling you suicidal. Right now, living wi
The Book ThiefSometimes when I wander by,The Book Thief2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
I see this stranger,
as snowflakes fly,
reading and not seeming to be in any danger
I catch a glimpse of his book,
it's so brown,
probably with a good hook,
and I gently sit down
He still doesn't look at me,
it's "The Book Thief",
I smile and let him be,
and begin to feel grief,
Because I know that book,
it's so sad,
when he finally gives me a look,
I know he doesn't find it bad
That's why I smile,
and he begins to talk,
we sit there for a while,
and later begin to walk
He with a long winter coat,
and the brown book in his hands,
me as I float,
above the snowy land
can bring you together,
without arranging any meeting,
books are forever
The Worm and the EpiphanyAlas, the worm was blind. Making its way through fertile earth, never meeting a soul, not even its own. Not knowing kith or kin, it didn't seem to bother him as, day by day, he burrowed his tedious way through mulch and mire; heeding not the dark or the cold. Not needing to ask the question that never would tire because it never grew old. He was not simply "you" -- he was "it" who did not exist.The Worm and the Epiphany5 years ago in Fable Me This More Like This
So on and on, as often goes with a worm, it continued the clandestine tryst to turn the soil. It was what he had learned, or was born having known. Was he born -- and born to toil? -- flashed a thought in the dark. Had he not? He never thought to ask it before.
Then suddenly, the worm broke through the crust of ground! It squinted hard into a blinding light, and basked in the shade of a sunflower whose head bowed low with curiosity, and promptly doused the worm with a shower of dew. And