This battle
I like being naked now, it's really relaxing and pleasent.
I was too depressed to even look at the camera.
Then I felt really rebellious and had to convey that feeling by glaring at the camera.
Then I glared at my AP American History text book. Big exam tommorow, guess who didn't study?
Meh.
I also wrote a descriptive essay for Beaulieu, and I was dissapointed with it. I wanted it to come out soudning a lot better but ehhh not my best work at all. You guys should all tell me what you think, plzz
I stared down at the wet concrete and my feet, my feet on the concrete crumbling with age and the concrete that had become so familiar to me. I could feel it, cold, hard and coarse underneath my calloused souls, its cracks grinning mockingly at the sky and emitting an earthly, metallic scent that made my nose itch. I tore my eyes from the ground and gazed dreamily down the lonely street, shivering slightly as several drops of rain hit my bare shoulders. The world was completely silent save for the howling of the wind and the whispering of the trees, the trees which churned so maniacally in the storm that I momentarily felt as if I had been plucked up from where I was standing only to be placed down again in a Dali painting. Another gust of wind, howling its aching song and smelling of brine rushed to encase me in a welcome chill.
The pattering of rain then grew stronger, the droplets falling towards earth like hard little diamonds. I chanced a look towards the heavens, seeing a gray canvas staring back down at me. The sky seemed to crack open then, perhaps in greeting, spitting a bolt of white lightning down towards the soaking Earth. This did not phase me in the least, I simply averted my eyes in respect and focused on the street again. The trees still churned in the wind, their branches sashaying to the beat of the furious storm. A paper bag, painted some garrulous color and advertising corn chips skittered across the ground, passing within inches of my feet.
It was then when the rain came the hardest. I watched as a sheet of water galloped towards me from the west, roaring as it hit the unyielding concrete. It consumed the scene before me, eating the street up like candy. I tried retracting into myself when the rain finally reached me, not wanting to get too wet. I realized the effort was futile and stood again, a proud beacon of strength in the midst of the downfall. Soon, I was sopping, shivering uncontrollably and growing considerably more miserable by the minute. Sheepishly, I turned and stepped onto my lawn, the soft grass squelching under those calloused souls. The rain fell harder and I walked quicker, finally coming to my door and the rest of the world. As if giving up, I reached out and grasped the cold golden handle and turned it, staring into my orderly living room: a haven. I glanced over my shoulder before stepping over the threshold, bidding the storm one last goodbye and giving it one last chance to show me its intensity. It’s response was riveting: a gust of wind, a snap and a groan, and the tree in my front yard fell to the ground.
I had paid my respects, the storm had paid its, and it was time for us to part ways. I stepped past the threshold and closed the door behind me, the wind crying in protest at my back.
Decent day today. I really miss Nick though. Wow, our new Myspace picture is amazing. HAHAHA.
OH YEAH!11 I designed this front page for the schools website in webdesign. My teacher told me he'd never uesd it and called me an idiot. I thik it's quite nice.
I was too depressed to even look at the camera.
Then I felt really rebellious and had to convey that feeling by glaring at the camera.
Then I glared at my AP American History text book. Big exam tommorow, guess who didn't study?
Meh.
I also wrote a descriptive essay for Beaulieu, and I was dissapointed with it. I wanted it to come out soudning a lot better but ehhh not my best work at all. You guys should all tell me what you think, plzz
I stared down at the wet concrete and my feet, my feet on the concrete crumbling with age and the concrete that had become so familiar to me. I could feel it, cold, hard and coarse underneath my calloused souls, its cracks grinning mockingly at the sky and emitting an earthly, metallic scent that made my nose itch. I tore my eyes from the ground and gazed dreamily down the lonely street, shivering slightly as several drops of rain hit my bare shoulders. The world was completely silent save for the howling of the wind and the whispering of the trees, the trees which churned so maniacally in the storm that I momentarily felt as if I had been plucked up from where I was standing only to be placed down again in a Dali painting. Another gust of wind, howling its aching song and smelling of brine rushed to encase me in a welcome chill.
The pattering of rain then grew stronger, the droplets falling towards earth like hard little diamonds. I chanced a look towards the heavens, seeing a gray canvas staring back down at me. The sky seemed to crack open then, perhaps in greeting, spitting a bolt of white lightning down towards the soaking Earth. This did not phase me in the least, I simply averted my eyes in respect and focused on the street again. The trees still churned in the wind, their branches sashaying to the beat of the furious storm. A paper bag, painted some garrulous color and advertising corn chips skittered across the ground, passing within inches of my feet.
It was then when the rain came the hardest. I watched as a sheet of water galloped towards me from the west, roaring as it hit the unyielding concrete. It consumed the scene before me, eating the street up like candy. I tried retracting into myself when the rain finally reached me, not wanting to get too wet. I realized the effort was futile and stood again, a proud beacon of strength in the midst of the downfall. Soon, I was sopping, shivering uncontrollably and growing considerably more miserable by the minute. Sheepishly, I turned and stepped onto my lawn, the soft grass squelching under those calloused souls. The rain fell harder and I walked quicker, finally coming to my door and the rest of the world. As if giving up, I reached out and grasped the cold golden handle and turned it, staring into my orderly living room: a haven. I glanced over my shoulder before stepping over the threshold, bidding the storm one last goodbye and giving it one last chance to show me its intensity. It’s response was riveting: a gust of wind, a snap and a groan, and the tree in my front yard fell to the ground.
I had paid my respects, the storm had paid its, and it was time for us to part ways. I stepped past the threshold and closed the door behind me, the wind crying in protest at my back.
Decent day today. I really miss Nick though. Wow, our new Myspace picture is amazing. HAHAHA.
OH YEAH!11 I designed this front page for the schools website in webdesign. My teacher told me he'd never uesd it and called me an idiot. I thik it's quite nice.