cool eh?..haha nope, that's not me...
that's what wrote for hw...
part of what i wrote....
dunno why i'm puttin it here though...
All the talk about how sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me was just nonsense. For when my aunt gently broke the news to me, I felt my world crash right down to a place deeper than hell. The three words ‘they are gone’ will hurt my heart forever. Sticks and stones would have been definitely easier to bear...
haha...
For many long nights after my parents’ death, I would lay awake and fantasize that this whole thing was a fake and that the next morning, I will be kissed awake by my mother and my father would be at the dining table reading the morning news. Long after my parents’ death, I would lay awake and try to listen to the wind howling, wondering if it could be my parents’ way of communicating with me. I would try to figure out if the reason my heart ached and that I could not let go was because my parents were still somewhere out there, alive, looking for me....
I had already found a way to make myself seem less noticeable. I would keep my head bowed down and slug my shoulders. That way, nobody really notices me. It works. But each time I see a group of girls huddled together in one group laughing and looking as if they were the happiest girls in the world, my heart ached badly, and hot tears stung my eyes. But I never let my tears fall. Tears showed that I was weak and I needed to be strong if I wanted to survive
I entered the room, my eyes darting around the small enclosed but bright space. I was surprised. The councilor’s office was different from what all the rumors described. Instead of the shocking pink room with laces adorned at every corner and furry carpets I expected, I was met with a bright sunny yellow room with orange sofas that looked so soft I wanted to sink into one and disappear forever. Lovely paintings were hung on the wall and they seemed to be telling their own individual story.
I took a deep breath as I looked up at the building. It was painted a sunny yellow with a porch that had a garden swing. Girls were sitting on the wooden benches placed at the foot of the steps that let to the building. Nodding on slender stalks were flowers, white and palest pink: they glimmered as a mist amid the rich hue of the grass. Morning glories climbed up the building, reaching for the sun. The boles of trees glowed with a soft green like young grass. The twigs that fell to the foot of the trees were stretched out stiff and still, as if reaching out to the sun’s warm. The whole place in front of me looked like a dream. ‘Breathe in the country air my dear,’ my grandmother told me, ‘it’s good for your soul.’ I had never been to the country and I marveled at the field to the right of the building, with grass greener than I had ever seen. I took a deep breathe as my grandmother took me firmly by the hand and let me into the place that would change my life.
As I walked with her among the trees, my feet scuffling along the leaves making a lovely noise that reminded me of autumn when all the leaves fell to the ground. Autumn had been my favorite season. When I was a little girl, I would eagerly rush out of the house with my parents just to jump into piles and piles of leaves. The leave piles were huge, and I was little. This makes them the perfect spot to hide- among the biggest piles of dried, rusty colored leaves- when my parents try to find me. As I trampled on the leaves, I missed my parents more than ever.
Everything or at least more things seems clear now. My parents are not history. A part of them still lives. I am the part of them who would continue to travel lives’ journey. They are the part of me that would give me the courage and strength to carry on living, no matter how tough life gets...
man, it was so cool when i wrote this...
it was so fun...
and so sad.
these are only fragments...
xd- clastronamphitro
"life on fire"
6:39 AM
6:39 AM
