dumbfounded."It's such a small line between dreams and reality," she thought to herself. She lay roughly awoken in her bed. She recollected about the dream she had just had, where her broken friendship had been stitched back together, where on thanksgiving she wasn't alone, where just as she started to think about her friend, to say something, to tell a joke, her friend was there, already waiting and knowing. Her dream was so similar to reality it hurt her and woke her up. She dreamed about doorbells ringing, and always knowing who was on the other side, she dreamed about afterschool hours and when they weren't already guiltily filled by extracurricularsdumbfounded.
Definitely, Maybe.Her blonde hair brushed the back of her neck and swirled in circles atop her ears. She was completely oblivious to the fact that we were watching her, we were all watching her. Her fallen shawl gave way to her delicate shoulders, porcelain skin over porcelain bone. It was Emily, by the park, not with a candlestick or revolver, but with the power to break a heart just as strong. I watch her laugh, she threw her head back, eyes closed. She kept her distance, an unconscious tease making me want her probably as much as Will does. He seemed completely unfazed when she ran her fingers through his hair, but her actions made the blood race through myDefinitely, Maybe.
nanowrimo. one.It was hard to leave work that day. It was hard to tell her goodbye. A simple "See you next week," seemed liked words I would never have the competence to utter. She had beaten me to it; she came right up to me and smiled, pushed her black rimmed glasses up her nose, she thanked me and left me staring. It took me a moment, but I was able to smile back. She walked on, without knowing the affect that she had on my heart. She was hardly thirteen but she hit me harder than any cute boy I had ever seen. I fell backwards to the mat, completely drained. No one glanced in my direction and I was glad. I needed a minute to bring the blood back to my venanowrimo. one.
do I need a title?only seventeen we are now seventeen the philisophical changes threaten my life with confusion. same question, never to find an answer. too many, too much, too much time on our hands. not enough. not enough. balance. equality. utopia. danger, not my middle name, security, not mine either. "let's risk it all," but not too much. but we live to die. we live? how long? how old am i? how old should i be?do I need a title?
| IN OMNIA PARATUS [ready for anything] |
do not weep.
i'll send you the link of my creation once i'm done!
--
Shake and Break
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