I have a cat.
Look at my cat. This is my cat. I have a cat.
The cat likes it when I hold it. The cat likes to put its paws on my shoulders. It is my cat. I have a cat.
The cat is tawny and it likes looking at the sky on snowy days. It is not cold because it has fur. I am not cold because I have a warm jacket and a toque. I have a cat.
My cat has a name. Its name is Cat. That's right. Cat. Cat is a cat. Cat the cat....
There's somebody standing in the corner of my room. The shadows play with the darkness but I'm not sure who it is. I look into the black trying to find clues as to her identity. Was it Heather? Perhaps Julie. The dunken stupor of waking in the middle of the night was never good for my senses.
The previous hours were engrossed in crime, passion and recharge. Our time moving towards Ethan's death came forth at lightning speed and before he knew it, the small stainless dagger had plummeted into his chest. You could call it an accident (and we...
One person shouldn't be able to change your life forever. I think we all know people who have been affected outside of their control - torture, rape, molestation... it's a little fucked up to put love in the same category, isn't it?
Maybe the crucial difference is that it's a sweet anguish. That's why I feel sick to my stomach, I can't sleep at night, my conscious is fixated on one person and one event. It makes me smile when I don't feel like crying. This seems like such a high school thing. Aren't those the cuts that make the...
Back in 1943
Everywhere was tyranny
It seems the perfect time to me
To test my backwards time machine
If Hitler dies, what happens then?
To future women, future men?
Perhaps we've come to pick the locks
To history's temp'ral paradox
"Flash mob. 12 PM. Be there or be LAAAAAAAAAAAME."
I put my phone back in my pocket and smiled. This was it, I thought. This was my chance to be part of the group, for good. I wouldn't let them down this time. Not when they had finally started to accept me. I rushed to my computer and opened the video Jayna had sent me. It was time to learn this dance.
Jayna had never been the most popular girl at school, but she had always been the coolest. With her blue hair and her ever-present messenger bag, the other...
"I want grandchildren."
"I know, ma. But, I'm just not ready for-"
"-Did I ask you what you're ready for?" ma interrupted me, once again. "I'm old, lonely and in need of grandchildren. As my only child, you owe me that."
I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. Why? Why does my mother torture me so? "Listen, I really do have to-"
"-When are you going to get a man?"
"Mother!"
"Don't act surprised. You're 28. You've never had a steady boyfriend. The girls in my book club are starting to wonder about you."
Embarassment covered me from head to...
No one else stood up when the two elderly ladies got on the bus, so Bear had to provide the example and offered them his seat. He stood up as they approached and made the giving up my seat gesture with his arm. The one lady smiled and him. He watched the smile curdle into an expression of confusion and followed her sightline to see some teenager had taken his seat.
"Hey," Bear said, trying to sound tough and imposing. "You think I stood up for you? I was letting these ladies have those seats."
The teenager ignored him, scrolled...
She didn't look at him. She couldn't. If she even thought of him she could feel the tears welling upp and her throught constrict. How could he be so cold, so uncaring. She took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of her self. Feel nothing she intoned, feel empty. The hardest part was getting into bed at night. Laying down next to him and pretending that he wasn't there. He talked to her about nothing and she responded as evenly as she could manage, still without looking at him. SHe could feel his frustration, hurt and anger...
The year was 1986. It was a Tuesday, at night. 7:58 PM. I couldn't wait until 8 o'clock to enter the world. I'm sure I came out screaming like most babies. I'm sure my eyes were closed, and that the October chill had me wanting a blanket.
The year was 1990, and I remember asking my dad for days when I was going to be 4 years old. My eyes were wide and hazel, my hair blonde and short.
The year was 1994 and I got to wear a sundress in October. Never ever in New York can you wear...
She could tell I was faking it. Every time I cracked a smile or choked out a laugh. All of it a fabrication to please the people around me. An attempt to lie to everyone, especially myself, about how screwed up my life really was, about how everything around me truly was going to hell.
When you've lost everything, why shouldn't you laugh? The bitterness of it is cathartic.
Yet... She stays around. Keeps an eye on me, noting my dulled eyes and chronicling every irrational action. Hearing the broken glass edges of my voice, seeing the glint of tears...