We touch, I feel a rush, we clutch, it isn't much but it's enough to make me wonder what's in store for us. It's lust. It's torturous
Eminem's tortured voice blasts through my speakers, pumping me up for I don't know what. I sit in my car, waiting for Blake and Erik to arrive. I look towards the road and to see the faint outline of something moving towards me in the darkness. It gets closer, taking shape in the night. It's a Jeep, headlights off. The boys are here. Blake pulls swiftly into the space next to my car, and I climb out and into the warm, slightly damp night. The boys jump out of the red Jeep Wrangler, Erik mumbling about bo
I'm facing a door. Around me is a stark, white room, with windowless walls. I press my ear against the door; strange, muffled melodies travel through the solid oak, bewildering my untrained ear. Crouching, I peer through the narrow crack between the door and the floor, catching only glimpses of colors that are nonexistent in my bland, black and white world.
Although I do not know specifically what dwells on the other side, I do know what that world is. The Free World. My hand hovers above the door knob, and I let it move slowly toward it. No! I stop myself. I know what will happen. The knowledge has been burned into me since birth. The bras
It didn't really hit me when I first heard the news. It was sad, yes, but nothing unusual. Death happens. Everyone has to die at some point. Her death just came a little sooner than expected. But then I got to school. That's when reality really sank in. The truth of the matter hit home. She's gone, not coming back. I didn't know her, but it's enough to see the people that loved her dealing with it. I can't stand to see people cry, to grieve. It makes me cry. I feel her death in the stale air of the hallways, I can hear it in people's trembling voices as they hold back their tears, I can see it in people's eyes and the set of their mouths. But
who knows where my feet would lead me if i let them go
who knows where my heart would take me if i set it free
who knows how my soul would wander, i'll tell you now i don't
who knows what my life would want, and would it let me be?
who knows if my mind would make it, breakin' down the walls
who knows where my hands would lay, leavin' thought behind
i know how my face would fake it, never let 'em fall
leave my selves and let 'em be now, 'cause you don't want to find
out the truth, that im not you, and im not them, no, not at all
im awkward and im clumsy, love, but there's no love to fall
i've left behind my faces now, i've lost my
We touch, I feel a rush, we clutch, it isn't much but it's enough to make me wonder what's in store for us. It's lust. It's torturous
Eminem's tortured voice blasts through my speakers, pumping me up for I don't know what. I sit in my car, waiting for Blake and Erik to arrive. I look towards the road and to see the faint outline of something moving towards me in the darkness. It gets closer, taking shape in the night. It's a Jeep, headlights off. The boys are here. Blake pulls swiftly into the space next to my car, and I climb out and into the warm, slightly damp night. The boys jump out of the red Jeep Wrangler, Erik mumbling about bo
I'm facing a door. Around me is a stark, white room, with windowless walls. I press my ear against the door; strange, muffled melodies travel through the solid oak, bewildering my untrained ear. Crouching, I peer through the narrow crack between the door and the floor, catching only glimpses of colors that are nonexistent in my bland, black and white world.
Although I do not know specifically what dwells on the other side, I do know what that world is. The Free World. My hand hovers above the door knob, and I let it move slowly toward it. No! I stop myself. I know what will happen. The knowledge has been burned into me since birth. The bras
It didn't really hit me when I first heard the news. It was sad, yes, but nothing unusual. Death happens. Everyone has to die at some point. Her death just came a little sooner than expected. But then I got to school. That's when reality really sank in. The truth of the matter hit home. She's gone, not coming back. I didn't know her, but it's enough to see the people that loved her dealing with it. I can't stand to see people cry, to grieve. It makes me cry. I feel her death in the stale air of the hallways, I can hear it in people's trembling voices as they hold back their tears, I can see it in people's eyes and the set of their mouths. But
who knows where my feet would lead me if i let them go
who knows where my heart would take me if i set it free
who knows how my soul would wander, i'll tell you now i don't
who knows what my life would want, and would it let me be?
who knows if my mind would make it, breakin' down the walls
who knows where my hands would lay, leavin' thought behind
i know how my face would fake it, never let 'em fall
leave my selves and let 'em be now, 'cause you don't want to find
out the truth, that im not you, and im not them, no, not at all
im awkward and im clumsy, love, but there's no love to fall
i've left behind my faces now, i've lost my
Does anyone know of really good creative writing software? I'm probably going to get a laptop for graduation, and I really want to get something that's going to help keep me organized and stuff. Please let me know. =) Thanks.
I am not a homebody. It isn't that my home is bad, it isn't. I'd just usually rather be anywhere else. On another note, I don't have favorites. A favorite band, food, book, friend, etc. There's way too much great stuff out there, and I'm way too indecisive to pick just one of each.