“What?!” I half cried. I grabbed his overhemd, shirt and gasped from the air in my throat wanting to get out.
“Get ready, we are going to be late. u okay?” he asked calmly. You, go, away, my inner self told me.
“I’m fine. Bye. I’ll be down in a minute.” I said, softly releasing my tight grip on Looi’s white t-shirt. After about 20 minuten of getting knots out of my hair, getting my jas to button, and getting my tote bag ready for school, Looi yelled, “Let’s go!” and I heard him shuffle down the stairs.
As I gathered my stuff, extra books, and an extra comb, I headed downstairs.
“I’m coming with u to see if I could get a little side job as a custodian. u can see me everyday!” he shouted excitedly. I chuckled and shook my head.
It seemed like nothing happened.
“Don’t forget, I’m staying after school . . . it’s a new counselor thing. I’m supposed to meet with a guy named “Mr. Right”. Ha! Mr. Right . . . hilarious.” I said, looking down. Looi smiled and made a motion for me to exit out the door.
As Looi drove, I thought on and on about wasted thoughts on how to waste your own thoughts thinking how to waste thoughts. That was a technique of my last counselor to keep my mind off of things. All of the first snowflakes fell, touching the fresh gras of green. I felt like boots of electricity was running through my body. All I wanted to do was walk to school. I don’t need Looi of anyone else to drive me. I drifted off into space, wondering if I have something to give to the world. I’m nothing compared to people. People who are made of something. I’m made of nothing. No human substance could be made of Glorious Sher. Nothing could beat my brother. Everything could beat me, even my own soul.
Then, I regained thought. I started to think about everything I’ve ever learned in my entire lifetime. I thought of the ways my dad used to read to me before I went to bed because he was the only one who could actually make me go to bed. My dad, Frank, was always the one who gave me my shots. “My psycho self”, as I called myself, had to be put down sometime. He read me stories about princesses that I never admired. When my “disease” started, he always had so much trouble getting me to go to bed. I always dreamed, I didn’t want to dream. Whenever my eyes closed, funny pictures would appear. I didn’t want to get in trouble, so I had to stare at those pictures all night. Then, I used to get nightmares. Tons and tons of nightmares that I couldn’t control. It was so bad to a point that the psychiatric that I was seeing, couldn’t take to hear what I was dreaming, and quit his job so he could live with monks in a peaceful place out in China.
True story.
I can’t believe I caused my father, so much trouble. I didn’t mean to get this thing that’s, just like a computer, over writing my hard drive. I still cry for no reason at all. If only he could see the progress I’ve made. He only got to be with the psycho I used to be. He only got to see the evil person I was.
I still am.
And then, the death.
It replayed in my mind so many times I thought that the loss would never go away from my head. The screaming of my mother, the shouts form my mother. Everything was pandemonium and rediculous. when we found out what happened to my dad, I started to cry, thinking, Oh, my gosh, my father got hit. It wasn’t a car accident, it was a violent stunt of crime
I remembered the nights I shivered all over for an hour, crying myself to sleep. Doctors couldn’t help me. They say there is nothing like what I have ever in the course of history. Dr. M, one of the psychologists, thought that King Tut had similar symptoms. I highly doubt that.
We still had a long way to go before we got to school because we live far away, so I drifted off into sleep. My dreams weren’t so bad now, only once a jaar would I get a very evil dream. The sound of screaming, sucked me into deeper sleep...
Honk, honk, “Move it, u loser!” I heard a scream from Looi, interrupting my sweet silence. There was a huge line up of cars in front of them.
“What’s the hold up?” I asked. Looi shook his head and thought. I took that as a ‘I don’t know’. meer and meer cars kept on honking away, even though no one is moving and inch, and are not going to verplaats an inch for a while.
“I think there is construction, wanna go see?” Looi said. I looked at him, and then sighed. He looked enthused, so I climbed out of the car.
Everywhere, cars were getting louder and louder, wanting to verplaats on with their busy, normal lives. When I turned my head to the right, a man sat, smoking a cigarette. The man was very skinny, and middle aged. When he turned his head sideways, his red spiky (yes, surprisingly red and spiky. Although, I think he dyed his hair red because it is very bright red), short hair got caught in the buckle dispenser. I started laughing, and had to put a hand over my mouth to stop me from bursting out in a hysterical rampage of giggles. When he turned his head sideways, he didn’t look that old anymore. He finally got his hair out of the buckle thing. His hand stroked the top, boven of the steering wheel, thumping to the beat of the alternative band song playing on the radio. His head jerked back and forth, while the gitaar beat became faster.
“Get ready, we are going to be late. u okay?” he asked calmly. You, go, away, my inner self told me.
“I’m fine. Bye. I’ll be down in a minute.” I said, softly releasing my tight grip on Looi’s white t-shirt. After about 20 minuten of getting knots out of my hair, getting my jas to button, and getting my tote bag ready for school, Looi yelled, “Let’s go!” and I heard him shuffle down the stairs.
As I gathered my stuff, extra books, and an extra comb, I headed downstairs.
“I’m coming with u to see if I could get a little side job as a custodian. u can see me everyday!” he shouted excitedly. I chuckled and shook my head.
It seemed like nothing happened.
“Don’t forget, I’m staying after school . . . it’s a new counselor thing. I’m supposed to meet with a guy named “Mr. Right”. Ha! Mr. Right . . . hilarious.” I said, looking down. Looi smiled and made a motion for me to exit out the door.
As Looi drove, I thought on and on about wasted thoughts on how to waste your own thoughts thinking how to waste thoughts. That was a technique of my last counselor to keep my mind off of things. All of the first snowflakes fell, touching the fresh gras of green. I felt like boots of electricity was running through my body. All I wanted to do was walk to school. I don’t need Looi of anyone else to drive me. I drifted off into space, wondering if I have something to give to the world. I’m nothing compared to people. People who are made of something. I’m made of nothing. No human substance could be made of Glorious Sher. Nothing could beat my brother. Everything could beat me, even my own soul.
Then, I regained thought. I started to think about everything I’ve ever learned in my entire lifetime. I thought of the ways my dad used to read to me before I went to bed because he was the only one who could actually make me go to bed. My dad, Frank, was always the one who gave me my shots. “My psycho self”, as I called myself, had to be put down sometime. He read me stories about princesses that I never admired. When my “disease” started, he always had so much trouble getting me to go to bed. I always dreamed, I didn’t want to dream. Whenever my eyes closed, funny pictures would appear. I didn’t want to get in trouble, so I had to stare at those pictures all night. Then, I used to get nightmares. Tons and tons of nightmares that I couldn’t control. It was so bad to a point that the psychiatric that I was seeing, couldn’t take to hear what I was dreaming, and quit his job so he could live with monks in a peaceful place out in China.
True story.
I can’t believe I caused my father, so much trouble. I didn’t mean to get this thing that’s, just like a computer, over writing my hard drive. I still cry for no reason at all. If only he could see the progress I’ve made. He only got to be with the psycho I used to be. He only got to see the evil person I was.
I still am.
And then, the death.
It replayed in my mind so many times I thought that the loss would never go away from my head. The screaming of my mother, the shouts form my mother. Everything was pandemonium and rediculous. when we found out what happened to my dad, I started to cry, thinking, Oh, my gosh, my father got hit. It wasn’t a car accident, it was a violent stunt of crime
I remembered the nights I shivered all over for an hour, crying myself to sleep. Doctors couldn’t help me. They say there is nothing like what I have ever in the course of history. Dr. M, one of the psychologists, thought that King Tut had similar symptoms. I highly doubt that.
We still had a long way to go before we got to school because we live far away, so I drifted off into sleep. My dreams weren’t so bad now, only once a jaar would I get a very evil dream. The sound of screaming, sucked me into deeper sleep...
Honk, honk, “Move it, u loser!” I heard a scream from Looi, interrupting my sweet silence. There was a huge line up of cars in front of them.
“What’s the hold up?” I asked. Looi shook his head and thought. I took that as a ‘I don’t know’. meer and meer cars kept on honking away, even though no one is moving and inch, and are not going to verplaats an inch for a while.
“I think there is construction, wanna go see?” Looi said. I looked at him, and then sighed. He looked enthused, so I climbed out of the car.
Everywhere, cars were getting louder and louder, wanting to verplaats on with their busy, normal lives. When I turned my head to the right, a man sat, smoking a cigarette. The man was very skinny, and middle aged. When he turned his head sideways, his red spiky (yes, surprisingly red and spiky. Although, I think he dyed his hair red because it is very bright red), short hair got caught in the buckle dispenser. I started laughing, and had to put a hand over my mouth to stop me from bursting out in a hysterical rampage of giggles. When he turned his head sideways, he didn’t look that old anymore. He finally got his hair out of the buckle thing. His hand stroked the top, boven of the steering wheel, thumping to the beat of the alternative band song playing on the radio. His head jerked back and forth, while the gitaar beat became faster.
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another monday,at waysway high school. Vanessa for hated school for mainly for 1 reason. susan.katie.ashlee.the meanest,popular,and prettiest girls in the school.they always taunt vanessa for being different. people thought ashe was different for her personality,but,that wasnt the only reason.
there was only one girl who didnt care if she was different.kylie.kylie was the smartest gilr in school,thats why she got made fun of. she was a nerd. though she had no braces,gloasses,or anything.in fact,vanessa thought kylie was prettier than susan,ashle,or katie.
People think they know vanessa,but,they dont,not yet. she had a very terrible,scary,and strange experiance.when u hear it,it may seem like a dream,but,its all true.its not a lie.its not a tall tale.its a true story. 100% true
this the satory of Vanessa Colorado.
there was only one girl who didnt care if she was different.kylie.kylie was the smartest gilr in school,thats why she got made fun of. she was a nerd. though she had no braces,gloasses,or anything.in fact,vanessa thought kylie was prettier than susan,ashle,or katie.
People think they know vanessa,but,they dont,not yet. she had a very terrible,scary,and strange experiance.when u hear it,it may seem like a dream,but,its all true.its not a lie.its not a tall tale.its a true story. 100% true
this the satory of Vanessa Colorado.
Serena
Kayla was raped in her own house.
What's more, her dad is reported to have committed suicide. Before he even heard that his own daughter needed him.
When I was little, I always had the blind faith in my mom. That she would always know which way to turn on the road. That if we got lost, everything would be fine.
That she would never desert me. Like Kayla's father has.
The girl is slumped against the wall, crying. You'd think that you'd eventually run out of tears, but u don't. It's just that, after a while, maybe u just don't have the strength to carry on any more.
u can dry up the tears u see, but u can never dry up the tears your hart-, hart sheds. Because when u cry, your hart-, hart gives up a little piece of itself that will always grieve. Always. I have every reason to know.
I put my hand on her shoulder, and she doesn't shake it off.
Kayla was raped in her own house.
What's more, her dad is reported to have committed suicide. Before he even heard that his own daughter needed him.
When I was little, I always had the blind faith in my mom. That she would always know which way to turn on the road. That if we got lost, everything would be fine.
That she would never desert me. Like Kayla's father has.
The girl is slumped against the wall, crying. You'd think that you'd eventually run out of tears, but u don't. It's just that, after a while, maybe u just don't have the strength to carry on any more.
u can dry up the tears u see, but u can never dry up the tears your hart-, hart sheds. Because when u cry, your hart-, hart gives up a little piece of itself that will always grieve. Always. I have every reason to know.
I put my hand on her shoulder, and she doesn't shake it off.