Gina had the stroke last year and lost total use of her left side. As I drink myself to sleep, it humors me that we both could use a little help getting to the can.
The spellbinding and heart-wrenching tale of Romeo and Juliet can be summed up in a mere few words; they came, they shagged, they died. In this, they were like every other human couple who joined biological forces, except that the title pair were in such a toxic rush.
I had to write a two sentence story for Creative Writing. Turns out I’m not that creative.
I am “The Chameleon”; no I’m not some superhero who can change the colour of their skin to suit the environment nor am I that weird lizard-like creature which can do the same thing.
I am the spy who can blend in with a crowd and be seen but not seen, I am the person who can melt into walls and disappear; I am the person who can slip down dark alleys never to be seen again and this is why I have earned the name “The Chameleon”.
Reality is a straight line fullof truth and what there is, never changing, just a ladder whereas belief is a curved line bending aroung what we know.
This is where we get adventure.
The two brothers fought valiantly with their swords against a foe that outnumbered them tremendously, but now it was becoming apparent to the younger one that the enemy was gaining ground as they grew weary. Noticing his brother’s obvious concern and fatigue, big brother looked over smiling and said, “Don’t worry bro, this is my dream and we’re gonna win!”
She held my hand and took me there, to her city in the sky, with its long twisting streets paved with heavy shadows that’d stick to the souls of your feet and leave echoing footsteps of flickering silhouettes.
I got lost up there, winding through the back alleys of her city where rainforests climbed up the sides of glass-walled skyscrapers, and deep canyons were lined with mass-transit trains built from the smooth golden pieces of great ancient clocks, gears spinning in the dappled sunlight that broken in through the high-voltage power lines and lush canopy of greenery; I got lost, and never returned home again.
When he checked his spam folder he saw one email that read, I miss you. He moved it to his inbox, but did not open it.
What is the man in front doing? Screech, turn, panic, safe.
After they caught me, they buried me in a bowling lane with only my head on the surface, sitting amongst the pins. I try to close my eyes, but I can’t, because I recognize the ball coming towards me and I can see that it wishes there was somewhere else it could go.
Only two out of a thousand say yes, aye, but none are worth the time. That’s why you drink — you drink so that most of your tears (and piss) evaporates, so that you won’t freeze when given the cold shoulder.
Moving on, moving out, moving up, moving away. Only looking back to say “I love you”.
Rachel couldn’t stand the sound of her husband’s snoring every night, and even worse the questions he asked each time she would tell him about it; “Does it sound like this?” he would ask. Months later they adopted a dog, Morty, and Morty snored eactly like Rachel’s husband – “There you go, it sounds just like that!”
Today is my birthday and i was suppose to have a party, my mom came to me and said im not having one, so i started to cry( like dramticly) , so i went to my dad and he said that he loves me very much so he thought that when you love some one so much all you need to do is show how much you love them and thats how my sweet 16 turned out.So i guess i really dont need a paty after all….
you fucking lie through your teeth like you were being sentenced to death. i asked for the truth, and all you did was throw a flashbang in front of me and run.
The familiarity of what was going on, coming to with a mask over his face and someone beating him on the chest, scared the hell out of him, but not enough to prevent him from bolting from the stationary ambulance where he had just been placed.
He knew the routine after all because he was a paramedic himself, but also a drug addict who needed to get back to his true love – heroin.
A clown came through my drive thru at work yesterday. Stupid circus.
As a young child, my father placed the crayon in my right hand; watched as I transferred it to my left hand; patiently returned the crayon to my right hand. He laughed aloud as I again transferred the crayon to my left hand, realizing that his daughter was a southpaw.
As if by magic, some handsome stranger came up to me asking me out and offering me the job that I have always dreamed of having for a salary that could buy me a house made entirely of shoes!
It was so surreal that I thought I was dreaming – because I was.
Black, brown, with steamed milk or without, or maybe an espresso or a frappuccino (what’s the difference between that and cappuccino anyway?) – I’m taking my time weighing options to find the best, the perfect choice, and although I know it’s just house policy, the smile she gives me is the sweetest smile, the very definition of beauty: patiently soothing my insecurity, assuring me that my choice, if and when it comes, will be appreciated, while I’m determined to make the most of this moment, aware that her smile distracts and delays me even more. Amanda was right, I really needed to get out more.