Miscellaneous (Spelling?)
When I was younger, and my dad used to watch all these war movies, it was always so depressing and everyone seemed to die in it. I can remember not understanding what they were shooting at, I thought there was some evil in the air, in the forest, harming our men for no reason and the armies couldn't shoot them because the "evil" were invisible but they still kept shooting at it anyway.
Dad lying on his side with his favorite pillow underneath his arm where he could reach with his fingers to scratch at the pillow was watching the movie closely. I would lie next to him in my favorite spot, close to his side where it was warm, even the sound of his pillow scratching was comforting.
"Dad? what are they shooting at?" I asked out of curiousity and frustration.
"The bad guys" he replied.
I left it alone because I still didn't understand and I didn't want to anymore, death was too scary for me to understand. I was just happy to have my dad with me safe and sound.
The wind blowing in softly, curtains swaying with every breeze.
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That was just something I had to write down because it was something that I remembered, for memorial day. Now that I'm older, I understand of course. It saddens me to think of all the deaths of the Braves who fought for our freedom and the freedom of other countries too. It also brings this feeling of being proud to be an American. If I could thank every fallen soldier, I would but I'm sure my rememberance of their bravery is enough. Every veteran who served in war deserves free medical, a home to call their own, and the rest of their lives to live and do what they please.
A little entry I'm putting in here from my past journal entry..I see the same thing all the time, Writing gives me this feeling in my chest and convinces me that this is my dream...
As I sit here and stare at the screen
I wonder if i'll ever come up with something to write
an adventure? A tragedy?
Or maybe something romantic
that will sweep some off their feet
Nothing comes to mind though
except a little blinking in the head
as if it's a ticking bomb about to
go off.
Desperation is what I come to
and therefore it clouds my mind
I'm inspired to type
but nothing comes out
except for some ramblings or maybe
a unfinished story.
Am I giving up too soon?
I refuse to.
I wanted a lap top all my life so that I could write and write and write
or type and type and type that is.
But I feel bummed because nothing is coming
and nothing is going
I just want to write
and I don' tknow what to write
Do I really want to write or is it the fantasy of mine to write and not really my dream? I don't know but I don't plan on giving up on the idea yet because after all i've been wanting to do this since I was little.