Can I survive? Am I really as strong as they think I am? They all think that I'm some prefect little girl who is strong and mature enough to keep her head and endure anything all by herself, but am I really? I just keep searching for an elusive escape that doesn't exist, I keep praying for answers that I know I will never find. Why don't they see my cheeks, burned by the tears? Why don't they hear the screaming of my heart as I live my life? They don't because I don't let it show. I can't let...
They laughed at the little thing as it squirmed
The dark water so close but so far away now in their minds
The way things change the eye flits away reconstructs
Safety is everywhere in this dangerous time, safety is in the struggling eyes of a small thing
They left it to it's toil the diurnal nocturnal pull of it's nature
Clinging to the raft looking at the shore
The sun warm and pure on it's matted fur
It was the fall that surprised me most. One minute you're standing and the next you're plummeting towards the earth. Time seemed to slow. I counted the stories of the building as I whizzed by them. Twenty, twenty one, twenty two. My last thoughts probably shouldn't be counting.
I thought my life was supposed to flash in front of me. I closed my eyes for a moment but nothing popped into my head at all. In fact, I was slightly irritated that I had stopped counting. I was probably about forty floors up. I should have paid more attention in...
The scene was peaceful, serene and calming. I stood at the base of the light house and pressed my back against the solid wooden door behind me. I felt the cool mist on my cheeks as the fresh, inspiring air entered my lungs. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The sounds of gulls flying overhead, of the playful waves spalshing against the rocks, all of these soothing sounds filled my mind as I allowed myself to get lost in the wonder of it all. This is what life was meant to be - finding enjoyment in the simple things....
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She held a bowl in one outstretched hand. Her eyes were studying the gravel on the road, not rising to the gaze of passersby who occasionally dropped a coin into her bowl. Her mother was dead, her father was missing, she had no siblings that she knew of, she had only a red gown and a bowl. When the bowl filled with money at the end of the day, as it often did, she would take it to a nearby shop and exchange it for rice...
After removing the gown and sliding to the floor, she flinched - another splinter. Number four. That is simply too many splinters.
Fen agreed.
"Following up from the fight we had last night Darren"
"I don't wanna talk about it Judy"
I can see the fear in Darren's eyes, i know he wants to tell me something, I just don't know what. His hands are trembling, while peeling the potatoes preparing for dinner. The look on his face is getting worrying. He suddenly falls to the floor, the peeler is down there with him. What did he do? What did I do? 911. PLease..
I dare you. I dare you. I dare you.
Her so-called friends had decided that it was time she took a stand against their teacher, apparently his 'bullying techniques' and 'sadistic behaviour' towards her was unacceptable. Not that she noticed, people could say what they cared - it was up to her whether or not she listened. That was of course her main problem concerning her; she just didn't care enough.
"I see we're having another quiet day today?" Said with so much contempt, spilling from a mouth that was hated by so many. She took a deep breath and...
She could tell I was faking it. They all could. They'd have to have known I wasn't "fine". I mean, come on. It's not really rocket science to figure out when someone's on the edge, is it? Am I really hiding everything so well that no one even thinks to ask me for a real answer? Don't people get tired of all those stupid, meaningless conversations?
"Hey. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm good."
No, you're not. No one is ever quite as "good" as they say they are, so why do we let them say that they are? What if...
It was just a fruit stand. No matter what they accused me of, it was just a fruit stand. You can believe who you want, but I swear it on my life that it was just a fruit stand. I'm a fruit seller. At least, I was. Before those bastards accused me of dealing drugs. It was just a simple fruit stand. My daddy had owned it, then I did. Not a great paying life, but a life nonetheless. Just a fruit stand. Not the center or a drug cartel. I'm just a poor man without much of an education....