Fault. Always so unclear.
Perhaps the fault was mine. Perhaps I shouldn't have pushed so hard. All I wanted was a taste. Just a glimpse of what she was thinking. Was I really in the wrong for that?
"Look. Just... Tell me what's wrong."
"I don't want to."
Obstinate. Here I am, just trying to figure out what's wrong with her or if she's okay and she doesn't want to share with me.
"You know you can tell me."
"I can't."
"I'm not going to judge you for anything, you know."
A shrug. Too bad, she's saying to me. You...
the grand opening was boring yet it was also very romantic me and my husband had went to the opening because he knew how much i loved to study. now i know not to try to put in so much on a busy day . i had a headache from learning about the scinentific stuff in our nearby steam so i would say it was not the best day ever but not the worst . i had to go lie down because i had a compleat meltdown in the mall i just could not take it . the feeling of...
He heaved a sigh as he walked down the hallway. The revolver hung heavy in his hand. He had no idea what model or brand or whatever the gun was supposed to be. He'd gotten it at a pawn shop for $15, along with a little blue soldier toy for a mere 50 cents. It was cheap. The paint on the toy was chipped, but its expression of determination haunted him.
He was exhausted. He was done. He couldn't take this any longer.
"Hey, kiddo..." He called. He'd reached his son's room. This was probably the first time they'd talked...
i jumped. it was the toaster this time. nerves of steel. i hand the waffle to my daughter. "dad (looking me over)--you are really bad at fashion." that's the tip of the iceberg.
people are circles. the outside circle is our behavior. the next circle is our thoughts. inside that, our feelings. at the center there is supposed to be something else, something more lasting and substantial. a light, our soul, awareness, something. and that's what we really are.
but what if this center goes unused or unnoticed for so long that it disappears. or the outer circles take on...
My mother was not svelte. She spent her life washing clothes, lifting children, and hauling sacks of potato and flour from the market to our small apartment in Flushing. My father frequently looked at the Sears catalog, commenting on the models within. "Why don't you look more like this one?" he would ask, as though the answer weren't obvious. My father did not look like Marlon Brando (young), and my mother did not look like Marlene Dietrich. Yet somehow, I never heard my mother ask my father why he didn't look like this one. Long suffering, some might say.
She...
Katie just loved taking walks downtown. It was such a nice way to get some fresh air. What she didn't like where the people she would meet while walking downtown, so as a general rule she kept to herself.
This particual Saturday morning didn't go that way.
As usual, Katie took her little poodle out for a nice stroll. Her poodle seemed to favor a tree, not to far away from a pay phone.
"A pay phone?" Katie chuckled to herself. "Talk about an outdated object."
As if on cue, the pay phone decided to ring. It startled Katie, and...
I put my heart and soul into everything I write. Snaps, anyone who reads the things I put on paper, learn too much about me...
They will learn how much I feel, the things I've lived through, the things I've endured.
I'm I really ok with someone, anyone knowing me that well?
Strangers reading my works, I don't mind. They don't know me from Adam. But people that know me, even if it isn't very well.
Reading one of my stories, my poems, they will get to know me, on a level I'm not sure I'm ok with.
I put...
Sal couldn't breathe. And he couldn't stand running through a huge group of people. They didn't have much to hurry for. Some of them were walking calmly to trains, while others were meeting thier loved ones after riding in on one.
He was the only idiot in the place litteraly pushing through people. He would have to apologize to the old lady with the walker he knocked flat on her butt later. Right now, Karen was his main focus.
Karen. She left Salvadore a message on his answering machine. Something about leaving him, because she couldn't keep playing house anymore....
, he assured the frightened convenience store clerk. The first thing was potato chips. He needed potato chips RIGHT NOW, he told her, or he would literally explode, because there were bombs strapped to him.
Don't worry about the bombs, he said again, trying to calm her down. But get me those potato chips quickly. I want the deep-fried sour cream-and-onion flavored type, he said, speaking slowly and enunciating so that there would be no screw-ups.
He had the advantage. She would be forced to retreat behind the counter, retrieve the bag of succulent potato chips that he knew she...
Goodnight!
I said that to him five hours ago and I have still yet to join him.
Damned insomnia.
Sucking the life from my brain, the energy from my soul and making me want to twist the necks of birds as they mock me with their dawn chorus.
How did I get here? Consorting with the godless hours. Joyless hours offering endless opportunities to think. To think about the past, the grey future and the uncertainty of existence.
I click the remote onto channels spewing out drab stories or, in some cases, none at all.
'Closed' it says on the...