I tried to kill my best friend when I was seven. No lie. I held her up against a wall and held her neck in between my hands. I taunted her, told her things that I really can't remember, something about how she had to obey me. At some point, I stopped. I don't know why.
I really don't know.

Today, it is something we make fun of as we count the days ( Read more... )

the music is loud, a thumping beat. a sweet melody of sound surronding me. entrancing me. vince's window is down, and the wind is splaying across my face. the backseat is large. the tire is gone I sit indian style, my eyes closed, and wish that a camera was taping this moment. i am euphoric. the sounds are sweet, the smells are the perfect mix of ( Read more... )

I'm not wearing a seat belt. I'm not even really sitting in a seat. Patrick's tire is taking up most of the back row, and his broken speaker takes up the other part. I'm sitting on the edge, in danger of falling. I almost blurt out, "If I die, it's all your fault!" but Pat looks tired, worn down, and i'm not sure what that line would do to him.

The ( Read more... )

I guess in some way, people never really know what they're doing. When they promise that they won't be mean, or not be selfish, they try, but then they see the perfect opportunity to make fun of someone, or they see the dress that would only look right on them ( Read more... )