Out of ControlIt's 6:46 and thirty-one seconds when the doorbell rings. My mom runs to answer it.More Like This
"Hi, Michelle!" I hear my mom call. It's my sister. She left her college friends to have dinner with us tonight.
I have four minutes before I can go out and greet her. I can only walk through doors when the number of minutes is divisible by five. 6:46 and fifty-nine seconds. Not happening.
It's the killer of what could be an okay life. I'm late for class all the time when I'm at school. A teacher will let me out at 1:50 exactly. I walk through the hallways in a straight line, starting with my right foot, ending with my left. I reach the door, but it's too late: 1:56. I lurk outside for four minutes before I can walk in. Late again.
Or I'll have a doctor's appointment. Do you have any idea of how many doors there are in a doctor's office? It takes me tw
charlotte lost her web"how was your day?"More Like This
"i heard you. what happened?"
"studied. thought about sex. walked the dog. killed a spider."
"ah. boring-'fuck,' then?"
"i fucking killed a spider!"
"why's that so awful? its guts get in your eye or something?"
"dammit! no! i killed it! i should fucking die, too- levitical law says so. death is to be punished with death."
"you don't agree with that. besides, it is just a spider."
"no, it was just a spider."
"dammit it's- it wasn't 'just a spider.' it was real. alive. a body that moved. stopped moving so well when my book smashed it. i realised what i was doing and started to cry- cry, crush, cry, crush. i couldn't kill it and make it suffer. i'm fucking heartless but i just couldn't do that. mutilate it. send it back home on five legs to its lover. see if that lover still felt the same about it. instead i just took its lover away completely. fuck-
Save The Whales"You know what?"More Like This
"We should never fall in love."
"Well, it's simple, really."
"Explain it to me, then."
"We're opposites, you and me. You're the sun, I'm the moon. You are day, I am night. You're warm and you beat with the vitality of life. I'm pretty chilly and I beat my fists against the mirror for showing me reality instead of dreams."
"I still don't quite understand."
"I am a dreamer, and you are a dream."
"Thanks, I guess."
"No, listen--you're like the people who say 'save the whales'. You want to save the world, you want to do some good. You want to make a change, make a difference. And me... well, I'm the whale. I can't do anything except wait for you to finally save me."
"I'll save you. I don't mind."
"I'll never thank you. I'm a whale; I can't talk."
"I don't care. I'll save you anyway. And you're wrong, you know."
"I'm not quite what you make me out to be. I laugh so I won't cry, yet that doesn't save me when I'm alone. I try to save the
learn to smiletheres this man whose eyes bleed this beautiful, sad blue. he hides it though, behind dark crops of hair and thick eyelashes. sometimes i find myself wanting to count the folds and wrinkles that hide his cheekbones and teach him how to smile. theres times i pass him and hell be pressing a cup of coffee gently to his lips and it makes me happy. i dont know why but i think it shows me hes alive. hes hearts beating and hes feeling something, anything.More Like This
he writes postcards to himself from his capital city to make sure he never forgets where he is. he posts them to himself and wonders why he does it. he cant really remember, but he buys new postcards every wednesday on his way home from work. he tells himself who he is and who he wants to be tomorrow. hes never who he wants to be, though. hes always who he wishes he wasnt.
on friday nights i walk my dog past the pier. sometimes ill walk down to the end, watchin
The Chemicals Between UsMore Like This
Colin had received the letter two weeks after his eighteenth birthday. "Congratulations!" it began. "You are pre-approved for a Breeding Marriage License! Enclosed is form MGA-1304, application for suggested partners. Please complete this form and return it to the Ministry for Genetic Affairs to request your list of genetically compatible partners." He folded the letter back into its envelope and drew out the application. After scanning across it briefly, he set it on the table and opened the next item, another piece of college junk mail.
It sat in a filing cabinet until a biting February day three years later. As he was walking home from a senior seminar on twenty-first century composition, the woman Colin had been seeing for the past few months stopped him on the sidewalk. His fingers searched for the warm spots in his pockets as she coolly broke up with him. "I'm sending for my partners list, and I think that we should end this relationship," she told him. "I just don't see the poin