i wrote some more!
I've been meaning to do the next challenge on 30minutemuse all week, finally got a chance since I'm home with nothing better to do.
And so I give you...
Title: Bright Side?
Rating: G
Challenge: Dear Diary option #5
Dear Diary,
I don’t feel that anything in this world is ‘dear’ anymore, let alone an old book I’ve found among the rubble that used to be someone’s home. The city I used to love is unrecognizable. I only assume the same of the rest of the world, since no one has come to help us. It’s been two months already, yet when I look around I feel the same shock as the first time we walked out of that basement. There was no warning, and now my entire life is gone. It’s almost funny- in one of those horribly ironic ways- my co-workers and I used to joke that one day we’d walk out of there and everything would be gone...
The few of us that are left have taken shelter in the train tunnels connecting to what just eight weeks back had been Grand Central Station. The others worry about the ceilings caving in on us; sometimes I wish that they would, just to end our misery. Not one of us here is a scientist, or a doctor, or an engineer, or even a carpenter. Even the optimistic ones must see how bleak our future looks. How can they not? Dust and debris still block the sun, assuming it’s even up there. I’ll go crazy the next time someone tells me to "look on the bright side." What bright side? Or do you mean the still-smoldering ruins that had once been awe-inspiring skyscrapers?
Today it was my turn to watch the children. They don’t seem like children anymore, even they are not naïve enough to believe in a bright side. I feel the most badly for them. Me? I’ve had three times the life any of them has had. So what if I regret not calling my mother back when I said I would that night. Watching these children trying desperately to play make believe, pretending that the world in which we’ve been forsaken is merely a room in one of those bad carnival funhouses and that once they find the right exit, the smiling faces of their mothers and fathers will greet them, that is more heart-wrenching than any of my sorrows.
I can’t help to hold on to the smallest bit of hope. That maybe I was supposed to be here for a reason. Why did I survive when millions of better people that I perished? I feel like suicide would be a cop-out (though I really do want out)... which is why I pray for some assistance in the matter.
I kind of want to start on a big writing project... maybe it'll be a goal for the summer? Heh, I write in here like I think someone is actually reading this. oh well.
And so I give you...
Title: Bright Side?
Rating: G
Challenge: Dear Diary option #5
Dear Diary,
I don’t feel that anything in this world is ‘dear’ anymore, let alone an old book I’ve found among the rubble that used to be someone’s home. The city I used to love is unrecognizable. I only assume the same of the rest of the world, since no one has come to help us. It’s been two months already, yet when I look around I feel the same shock as the first time we walked out of that basement. There was no warning, and now my entire life is gone. It’s almost funny- in one of those horribly ironic ways- my co-workers and I used to joke that one day we’d walk out of there and everything would be gone...
The few of us that are left have taken shelter in the train tunnels connecting to what just eight weeks back had been Grand Central Station. The others worry about the ceilings caving in on us; sometimes I wish that they would, just to end our misery. Not one of us here is a scientist, or a doctor, or an engineer, or even a carpenter. Even the optimistic ones must see how bleak our future looks. How can they not? Dust and debris still block the sun, assuming it’s even up there. I’ll go crazy the next time someone tells me to "look on the bright side." What bright side? Or do you mean the still-smoldering ruins that had once been awe-inspiring skyscrapers?
Today it was my turn to watch the children. They don’t seem like children anymore, even they are not naïve enough to believe in a bright side. I feel the most badly for them. Me? I’ve had three times the life any of them has had. So what if I regret not calling my mother back when I said I would that night. Watching these children trying desperately to play make believe, pretending that the world in which we’ve been forsaken is merely a room in one of those bad carnival funhouses and that once they find the right exit, the smiling faces of their mothers and fathers will greet them, that is more heart-wrenching than any of my sorrows.
I can’t help to hold on to the smallest bit of hope. That maybe I was supposed to be here for a reason. Why did I survive when millions of better people that I perished? I feel like suicide would be a cop-out (though I really do want out)... which is why I pray for some assistance in the matter.
I kind of want to start on a big writing project... maybe it'll be a goal for the summer? Heh, I write in here like I think someone is actually reading this. oh well.