The lamp wouldn't turn on. He thought it might be the bulb, so he unscrewed it and got a sixty volt shock that made his whole body shake until he dropped the lamp. He wouldn't do that again.
Pixie dust. I didn't think it existed before now. Until I experienced it firsthand. I had floated a few feet above the ground, spinning and whirling. Everything was different now. And beautiful. It shimmers and looks like gold sparkles. But it's not, it's so much more special. Fairies are real. Pixie dust is real. Take a closer look around you, you'll see it too.
Through the veil she was almost as pretty as I'd wished she would have been the first time we met for real, in real life, in person on the street. The love of my life.
I remembered that in certain photographs she had this quality, like an angel or maybe just someone who thought they were one, so strung out they could touch the sky. She wasn't that pretty, no pixie dust queen, just another girl who liked to make faces. But I think I love her.
You hope that, and I hoped that, the love of my life--because that's...
Days like this embolden me
To comment on the quality
Of 6ms's frustrating UI.
The problems with the pagination
Require no imagination
To fix, and also I must wonder why
Some days I cannot find a prompt
(Or anything that rhymes with prompt)
And my reliance on the site is waning.
Don't get me wrong, I'm here to stay
Or else I'd surely go away
But sometimes it can be quite aggravating.
It was twenty to eight.
"Actually, it's almost quarter-to."
He was such a pedant.
"I can see what you're writing, and I'm not, I just like to be precise about these things."
Once again, his obsessive compulsive need for exact timekeeping
"I don't have OCD."
He had completely missed the fact that he hadn't been diagnosed with any kind of disorder, just displayed some obsessive compulsive behaviour. It was more of his paranoid ideation, presuming that an innocent
'You haven't interrupted me.'
"You're being boring. It's just bitching now. Although now it looks like you're the paranoid one."
'I'm not...
That letter I almost-wrote? I almost told you today through a text. It wouldn't have come out the same. The "Hey I almost wrote you a letter saying..." text... I can't imagine the response I would have gotten.
Instead you told me to runaway. Runaway to see you. To LIVE with you. To leave my life behind that I'm apparently messing up and too young to be living. Live with you in a state I've never visited to an apartment I've never even seen in pictures. To an address I've never sent a letter to...
What to do, what to...
Nothing will matter then, everything will be gone. I will stand and watch them all. The humans running about their days with not a care in the world. Not knowing what is about to happen to them. Everything to them is important when really it is just crap. Who cares?
After tomorrow they will be nothing but dust not even a memory on the bottom of my shoe. I have seen this so many times, I have watched and laughed as human race after human race gets cleared out and started again. And each one is just as arrogant as...
Giving in WASN'T an option. I absolutely had to make it out of this place alive. Now, I know that no one gets through high school unscathed, but I had been observing the teenage life long enough to learn a few things. Number one: Teenagers are brutal. They will stop at nothing to ensure that they hold a place at the very top of the popularity ladder. They will back stab, manipulate, or talk their way in or out of any situation. Number two: When it comes to survival, anything goes. That's right, anything. If you need a 80% to...
Leaving was the easiest decision to make, and the hardest action to take. He'd told his parents he wanted to move out now. He'd found a job, found an adult advocate, and had surprised himself by finding an actual handicap accessible apartment in Savannah.
But, then came the guilt. "Haven't I taken good care of you?" his mother asked. "What did I do?" Her dark eyes shone with pain, but he couldn't decide if it was real or feigned.
"Yes, mama," he said wearily. "You've taken great care of me. Just like any nurse would.' He eyed her as he...
Maggie came to Heathrow airport on a white pony she had purchased along the Thames. She was hoping to board the next blind flight to Asia. Perhaps it might take her to Tibet, but you never know with those sort of flights. She had packed a variety of items in her wicker basket, which she always looped to the brass hooks above the seats on the plane. The basket had a vertical fold-out tray, where she had assembled her afternoon tea: a cup of Earl Grey and four cucumber cream cheese sandwiches.
She got in the security line at sector...