Quotes added on Sunday, April 17 2011
Sleep.
Chapter 1, Part 3.
I started tossing and turning stiffly in my sleep just as I had the night before, more so than before though. Suddenly, my imagination began to brew up another dream. Old, rotting, wooden walls surrounded me. My lungs were filled with thick smoke. Sweat trickled down my back. Looking for the source of the irritating warmth, I twisted my spine to look behind me. Flames engorged the walls, not a patch of the wood wasn`t being swallowed by fire. Eventually the smoke made its way surrounding me. There was no way for me to get out, no direction I could run without being diagnosed with third-degree burns afterwards. Boiling heat prickled at my forehead. It was getting harder and harder to gulp the little oxygen left in the claustrophobically small room. It hurt, it burned. I could already feel the scars forming on my skin. My arm popped out behind me to find some kind balance. Then I suddenly felt my hand not find something that could possibly steady me, but pain. I quickly ripped my hand away from it. Trembling in fear I pulled my hand up to my face, hoping not to find exactly what I knew was there. My hand, shaking, in front of my face, covered in burn marks, and cherry red, skin. I began to stutter, the fire laughed at my injury. Out of nowhere, I spontaneously caught the flames, and they began to engulf my body. Knowing the most common technique of un-catching on fire, I pushed myself to the ground, and started twisting, and rolling on the uncomfortably hard floor. It did nothing, I continued to burn without one effect from spiralling my way around the tiny room. Then I noticed something, I was screaming, at the top of my lungs, but I could not hear a thing. I looked around, nothing was here, but my soundless shouts rebounded off of the walls. Attempting to accept that I was dying, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that the tears of my aching that flowed down my cheeks like a busy river might possibly put out the fire. My eyes opened, expecting to catch my last glimpse of the flames, but instead, I was in my living room, lying on the carpet. I continued to search the room, which even though I had lived in my entire life, seemed like I had never seen it before. Unhappily I sighed, lifting my palm up to my forehead. As I reached for my sweating scalp, I realized something on the back of my hand. I flipped it knuckles-up. Breathlessly I held my throbbing stomach, as I stared at my hand, dangling in the air, bright, cherry, red. . . .
I started tossing and turning stiffly in my sleep just as I had the night before, more so than before though. Suddenly, my imagination began to brew up another dream. Old, rotting, wooden walls surrounded me. My lungs were filled with thick smoke. Sweat trickled down my back. Looking for the source of the irritating warmth, I twisted my spine to look behind me. Flames engorged the walls, not a patch of the wood wasn`t being swallowed by fire. Eventually the smoke made its way surrounding me. There was no way for me to get out, no direction I could run without being diagnosed with third-degree burns afterwards. Boiling heat prickled at my forehead. It was getting harder and harder to gulp the little oxygen left in the claustrophobically small room. It hurt, it burned. I could already feel the scars forming on my skin. My arm popped out behind me to find some kind balance. Then I suddenly felt my hand not find something that could possibly steady me, but pain. I quickly ripped my hand away from it. Trembling in fear I pulled my hand up to my face, hoping not to find exactly what I knew was there. My hand, shaking, in front of my face, covered in burn marks, and cherry red, skin. I began to stutter, the fire laughed at my injury. Out of nowhere, I spontaneously caught the flames, and they began to engulf my body. Knowing the most common technique of un-catching on fire, I pushed myself to the ground, and started twisting, and rolling on the uncomfortably hard floor. It did nothing, I continued to burn without one effect from spiralling my way around the tiny room. Then I noticed something, I was screaming, at the top of my lungs, but I could not hear a thing. I looked around, nothing was here, but my soundless shouts rebounded off of the walls. Attempting to accept that I was dying, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that the tears of my aching that flowed down my cheeks like a busy river might possibly put out the fire. My eyes opened, expecting to catch my last glimpse of the flames, but instead, I was in my living room, lying on the carpet. I continued to search the room, which even though I had lived in my entire life, seemed like I had never seen it before. Unhappily I sighed, lifting my palm up to my forehead. As I reached for my sweating scalp, I realized something on the back of my hand. I flipped it knuckles-up. Breathlessly I held my throbbing stomach, as I stared at my hand, dangling in the air, bright, cherry, red. . . .
Stand in the rain, stand your ground,
stand up when its all crashing down, and one day what's
lost can be found
Fave this if you love your Mom for everything
she has done
for you
♥
Love is what makes two people sit
in the middle of a bench, even if there is plenty of room at
both ends
♥
*Yeah maybe its true, that I can't live without you.. And maybe its true that 2 is better than 1.
i
woke up to a text saying
"goodmorning beautiful"
i'm pretty sure he made my day.
♥
"goodmorning beautiful"
i'm pretty sure he made my day.
♥
This is real this me,
I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now. Going to let the light, shine on me,
now I found who I am. There's no way to hold it in, no more hiding who I want to be.
This is me.♥
c o n s
t i p a t e d
o v e r a t e
d
o u t o f s t y l e
l o s e
r
do you remember when in 5th
grade this was the way of tricking someone into saying
COOL?
