Today in English, we had to make six 'Story Starter Sentences' that make you want to read more ( Read more... )

This vignette was based on a picture. Mine was based on this picture. We were supposed to remain in the picture frame, and not write about anything outside of it. I tried.The 'Shrimp Shred' sign adorning the window above taunts him. Playing his guitar never accumulates enough change to purchase the Jumbo Burrito which people enjoy inside, ( Read more... )

Writing class has started, so I'm going to start posting some prose that I write in that class. These are all 'shitty first drafts', and the beginning of this one is painfully awkward and horrible, I may as well just not write the beginning anyway.Chelsea was pretty. She was prettier than the other girls. She had prettier dresses than the other ( Read more... )

I missed my bus again. I only work one day a week at Value Village, yet somehow I manage to be late all the time. Public transportation is getting old ( Read more... )

I sit on my roof, and it feels like I'm the only one away inthe whole world - for a moment. The lights turn green on the street a few blocks up and the cars remind me that I'm never alone. For a brief moment I foolishly thought I was the only one experiencing this, but I never am the only one, and I never will be the first or last to experience ( Read more... )

Seventeen never seemed so young, but two hundred eighty one days seem so far away when you count them down one by one. "Why would you want to sleep your life away until you're 18? You'd miss all the great suffering that high school has to offer." That's so true. I want to start my life, I don't want this anymore. I don't want to have to live ( Read more... )

I haven't been carrying my journal around with me much anymore. I think it's cause I have too much to think about and whenever I have too much to think about I never end up materializing it into any kind of literature, probably because I don't want to document these times in my life ( Read more... )

My bed is extremely uncomfortable, but so are all the other options. I decided I want to write a novel, but I have doubts already. I must be very self-righteous if I think I am literally-inclined enough - or even competent enough - to write a novel. Secondly, I don't want it to turn out as an angsty, teen-aged, self-indulged book based on my own ( Read more... )

I get life's lessons from Starbucks coffee cups. I only wish I listened to them. Starbucks can't teach me how to be a good friend, though. It can't teach me what I desperately need to learn. It can't teach me morals, it gives me no dignity, and it can't teach me who to trust ( Read more... )

Coffee after coffee after coffee after coffee. Throw in a fag every now and then into the mix, and you get my day, my everyday. Looking at my hands, they tell a story. Phone numbers I should forget, paint from buddha that hasn't washed off from the previous night, chipped nails, and the ever-present, ever-increasing shake. I lost a lot. I lost ( Read more... )