I watched the 'It' girls stride down the hall. They smiled their perfect, white toothed smiles at cute senior boys, who of course drooled and practicially fell over. The way they looked, you'd think they owned the school. The leader, Miranda, pulled out her perfectly intact iPhone with its blinged out розовый case, and texted quickly, lavender thumbs tapping the screen. Her crew, Kristen and Lillianna, dutifully following like Собаки on leashes. Miranda was a beautifully devious, and knew how to make it hurt HARD. Lillianna wasn't much for saying anything, anything NICE, that is. And of course, Miranda, gorgeous, terrible, and evil. There they were, in their stylish, trendy, and gorgeously flattering outfits. They all held designer bags. Coach, Vera Bradley, JCPenny's. They were SOOOOO pathetic. They walked up to me and giggled at my simple wild thing tube top, and skinny dark washes. "Where'd Ты buy that?" asked Lillianna. "It concerns Ты why?" I retorted. "Well, she'll probably have to write it on the form she gives to the fashion police." sassed Miranda, then Lillianna and Kristen laughed loyally. "No, she was asking because she relized its okay to be nice once in a while." Lillianna rolled her chocalate brown eyes. "Yeah, okay." I sneaked a look at her aqua cased Droid, and saw a new Tweet in progress. I rolled my eyes and snickered at her username. "@QueenLillie" stated the screen. Stupid, I know. "What are Ты laughing at, your reflection?" asked Kristen. "No, I'm laughing at the fact that Ты acually think your awesome." All of the sudden, the hallway quieted JUST as I сказал(-а) that. "Excuse me?" asked Miranda, glaring at me in the most horrid way. "You, my dear, are a big fat slut who's BF couldn't afford to buy Ты anything because he's so poor." I knew I had tears in my eyes, but I talked back anyways. "At least I have a boyfriend." I slammed my lacker shut, and walked away, trying to hold my cries.
It was Thursday, and I had been pounced 2 days ago. I was sitting in English class, slipping a note to my best friend, who sat 2 seats away.
Me: What did she say?
I had seen her 1 period earlier, crying because of Miranda, of course.
Lissie: She called me a overweight whoar. :'(
Me: Don't cry, honey, shes not worth the time, или tears.
Lissie: *Brightens up* :')
Me: :D
Lissie: Lets stop. Mrs.Gratia (GRA-TI-YA) just gave me the evil eye.
Me: :O
Lissie: LOL, I'm serious!
Me: Okay!
I'll continue later;)
It was Thursday, and I had been pounced 2 days ago. I was sitting in English class, slipping a note to my best friend, who sat 2 seats away.
Me: What did she say?
I had seen her 1 period earlier, crying because of Miranda, of course.
Lissie: She called me a overweight whoar. :'(
Me: Don't cry, honey, shes not worth the time, или tears.
Lissie: *Brightens up* :')
Me: :D
Lissie: Lets stop. Mrs.Gratia (GRA-TI-YA) just gave me the evil eye.
Me: :O
Lissie: LOL, I'm serious!
Me: Okay!
I'll continue later;)
This is a song inspired by Anastasia's Once Upon a December. Also, it's the main song for my novel-in-progress, Imaginary. It's a song in which one of the main characters sings to cheer her up when she's scared. And once I finally get the story Опубликовано here, you'll actually see the depth and power and horror of the song.
Written by a friend of mine from school.
Midnight settles, darkness falls
Close your eyes and remember
Fallen Ангелы always sing
Once upon a December
Blood is flowing and it's warm,
Life's nightmares are like a storm
Demons dancing gracefully
across my memory
Broken Бабочки with torn wings
The pain they will always remember
Fallen angels, I hear them sing
Once upon a December.
Written by a friend of mine from school.
Midnight settles, darkness falls
Close your eyes and remember
Fallen Ангелы always sing
Once upon a December
Blood is flowing and it's warm,
Life's nightmares are like a storm
Demons dancing gracefully
across my memory
Broken Бабочки with torn wings
The pain they will always remember
Fallen angels, I hear them sing
Once upon a December.
Scraping at the boughs,
Unknowns becomeths known,
Where shards break across my skin as my mind is shredded into nothing.
How did I get here?
How did I become this?
How do I get out?
Trapped inside a thousand mirrors,
Seeing so many façades,
Which one is me?
Carved up and bleeding,
Happy unconscious,
Pepped up to go?
Nails scratch into my brain,
As I pick apart memories,
For a clue.
An inkling.
An idea.
Lost!
I’m so lost!
Where do I fit in anymore?
Who am I?
And how did I wind up here?
Unknowns becomeths known,
Where shards break across my skin as my mind is shredded into nothing.
How did I get here?
How did I become this?
How do I get out?
Trapped inside a thousand mirrors,
Seeing so many façades,
Which one is me?
Carved up and bleeding,
Happy unconscious,
Pepped up to go?
Nails scratch into my brain,
As I pick apart memories,
For a clue.
An inkling.
An idea.
Lost!
I’m so lost!
Where do I fit in anymore?
Who am I?
And how did I wind up here?
I slammed the car door shut, and faced the school.
"Have a good день sweetie," Mom said, somewhat hopefully from the drivers seat. Just the words made me want to ball up and cry. She drove away, leaving me in the dust. I would not survive this day.
Not that I deserve to.
I clutched my Книги to my chest, and tried to keep my eyes fixed on the ground. But I still felt their eyes on me.
"Bitch," they muttered.
"She deserves to die," others said. Didn't they know I want to? Didn't they know how much strength it took to keep breathing? And when I did, it was the everlasting pain that nearly brought me to my death. But I could only hope.
But they didn't know this. They just knew it was my fault. And it was. It was all my fault for what had happened.
And I'd live with this guilt till I die.
*****************************
Please let me know if I should continue this; I don't know if I should.
"Have a good день sweetie," Mom said, somewhat hopefully from the drivers seat. Just the words made me want to ball up and cry. She drove away, leaving me in the dust. I would not survive this day.
Not that I deserve to.
I clutched my Книги to my chest, and tried to keep my eyes fixed on the ground. But I still felt their eyes on me.
"Bitch," they muttered.
"She deserves to die," others said. Didn't they know I want to? Didn't they know how much strength it took to keep breathing? And when I did, it was the everlasting pain that nearly brought me to my death. But I could only hope.
But they didn't know this. They just knew it was my fault. And it was. It was all my fault for what had happened.
And I'd live with this guilt till I die.
*****************************
Please let me know if I should continue this; I don't know if I should.
I need to find a name for my character. She is a twelve год old girl with short, kinda boyish blonde hair. She has a curious and Mischievous personality and a tomboyish attitude. She loves Music, she plays Пианино and гитара and can play the Saxaphone really well. She is also very good in school. She has green eyes and likes to draw and write. Her main flaw is when she makes mistakes she has trouble realising that she is only human, and humans make mistakes. I am trying to find a good name but I am having a lot of trouble. Please help!
Introduction
Everybody has a friend. Someone to talk to, to share your secrets with. Someone in this cold cruel world that Ты could trust. A friend doesn't exactly have to be a person. It could be a pet, a journal-sometimes a banana-or even a rock. A friend doesn't have to be real, either. A character from a story или movie, perhaps? But that's still something everyone can look at, hear, или feel. Well, some of those make-believe friends, not actors, are things only you can look at, hear, and feel. Now those are called imaginary friends, as Ты probably know. Imaginary Друзья can be anything Ты want them to be. An animal, a creature Ты made up, a monster, или just another human being. There are rare cases when special people have imaginary Друзья that...are not exactly in the afterlife. But, no matter what, whatever kind of friend it is, that one true friend will always be there for you.
Always.
Always.
Always...
Everybody has a friend. Someone to talk to, to share your secrets with. Someone in this cold cruel world that Ты could trust. A friend doesn't exactly have to be a person. It could be a pet, a journal-sometimes a banana-or even a rock. A friend doesn't have to be real, either. A character from a story или movie, perhaps? But that's still something everyone can look at, hear, или feel. Well, some of those make-believe friends, not actors, are things only you can look at, hear, and feel. Now those are called imaginary friends, as Ты probably know. Imaginary Друзья can be anything Ты want them to be. An animal, a creature Ты made up, a monster, или just another human being. There are rare cases when special people have imaginary Друзья that...are not exactly in the afterlife. But, no matter what, whatever kind of friend it is, that one true friend will always be there for you.
Always.
Always.
Always...