The sights were beautiful, made even more wonderful by the pair of strong, protective arms wrapping around me as we sat looking ever the lake. The night air was cool on my skin and so very refreshing. I allowed myself to melt in his arms as his breath kept a steady rhythm adding to the song of the summer evening. The soft chirping of birds, the gentle whipsering breeze dancing through the trees and playing with my hair, the quiet clapping of the water in front of us - all of this combined in the most magical way to create...
I am not the hero of this story
I have abdicated my own starring role
I will live with that
or otherwise
I have chosen a poor teacher
or I have not made a choice
and that is the worst kind of choosing
She is not the villain of the story
I release her
bye
bye
become what you must, teacher, villain, muse
This is not a test
but I will take it
and pass it
with abandon and lust and glee
But it will not make me a hero
It will make me me
Giving in wasn't an option. Michael had broken my heart i don't know how many times. Each time, hurting more then the last.
Here he was, running back to me again after his other fling had fallen through. I couldn't give in this time. I didn't want to feel my heart breaking into a million pieces again. "Please, take me Izzy. I'm serious this time it will never happen again, let me prove it to you." "How?" I asked. "Well, let me start with this. Will you marry me?" I was shocked. I couldn't believe I was hearing this. After...
He sighed as he read: "This image or video is currently unavailable."
"Thank you, Flickr," the man said to himself. He'd been trying to upload the photos he'd taken at the reenactment all afternoon and was constantly frustrated by the site's refusal to work with him. James had been adding pictures to Flickr almost since its inception and had never had problems like today. He didn't know what to do, only that he felt like pulling his hair out.
"Forget it," he said in disgust. I'll try it again tomorrow. Standing up, he turned and walked away from the computer...only...
Aangekomen op het kruispunt keek ik naar rechts.
En naar links.
Links lag mijn bestemming.
Een dag vol kennis en testen.
De weg naar een opleiding,
en een goede baan.
Onderweg naar mijn toekomst.
Het stoplicht springt op groen.
Iik de vrijheid tegemoet.
Dear Mom,
Do you remember this picture? I do. I remember a lot about those days, when we were a family. Yesterday, I recreated this exact image with my daughter. Tess turned five on Tuesday. She's so excited to start school next month. I'm only scared that other kids will ask her about her family. I don't want to tell her that most of her family didn't want her. I don't want to tell her that Grandma and Grandpa wanted her to disappear.
I have no idea if this letter will make you love my daughter but I want you...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
The warm dirty mist saturates every poor. Across the street relentless construction of new industry raged on erasing the remnants of an older time.
The girl tries to imagine the world as it was, as she has learned in her history books. But now only progress and drives her world. She can not hear or picture the silence or the wildernesses she imagines and longs for. She grows weary of the diminishing magic of the unknown.
She felt stupid. Stupid? No, she felt worse then that. She felt bipolar and insane and hormonal.
she shouldn't have lost it like that, now he thought she was a total freak and not in the good way.
The kind of freak, you ignore their texts and messages, the kind of freak you tell your friends, "Stay away, that one is totally nuts!"
She was so angry with herself, angry that she couldn't just leave well enough alone, that she just HAD to speak her mind.
She liked him, but then that one little thing; when he asked about her....
The earthy smell of autumn leaves surrounded me and stimulated my senses. The crisp crunch of leaves was projected through the isolated valley as I gaped ahead at the distant disturbance. Harsh rustling and twigs snapping told me that this wasn't wind. This was a predator. My heart raced, its beats rapid and echoing through me. I tried to run but my legs were plastered to the ground, heavy as cement. And then I saw it.
He walked back, the small rocks crunching under his feet and the lips of fish sucking to his fingers, as if they were still alive and able to do even that most simple of things. It was a daily walk, and one he was quite accustomed to. It was a monotonous job, there are only so many times you can make the same three mile journey before you start to get bored of even the most beautiful trees and streams. Of course, he may have been able to appreciate them longer if they hadn't been cut down and irrigated away,...