The word being afraid is one of the most scariest things in the world, because we want to fight it, but we sometimes just can’t, and then we let it win. As I did that all the time. But how couldn’t I? The possibilities for me was worse from the average people. Cause I was a weirdo. A dwarf and I knew perfectly that people won’t understand me, and they will even think that I’m just a little kid. Or a baby.
I’m seventeen years old, but they still think that. And the worse of all that when I’m looking at the mirror, I can understand why they’re thinking in that way. Because I do look like a little baby who isn’t belong to a high school. Maybe not even for a middle school.
For whom who found or didn’t find their valentine yet!
That was the story which was fiction, but it also can be your future or past with different names, dates, and place! And I wish you find your nice man/woman!
Nobody liked my song. I knew that, but I didn’t care about it. I just cared about one thing. The offense from my family. Or just from my bother. When he said that he’s getting sick of my voice. I felt weak and powerless. My thought was always around his actions.
Why is he do that? Why is he want to hurt me all the time?
When the sky is falling, there’s only one option: die. What else? Because the sky is literally falling! How sucks is that? One week after my break up, and I saw as the sky work against me. Just to make me feel guilty. But no, even the sky can’t do that with me. And I know, I was the one who cheated on the other, but come on! That wasn’t my fault! I’m totally happy now. Being a single.
The phone rang.
Hi everyone! I’m really sorry about that I didn’t post anything a couple of days ago, when I said I’ll do it almost daily. I just have had some really busy days as I still have now. But there is no excuse for me. So I wrote for you my new story which is a little different from others, because it’s not about love or fantasy, and it doesn’t have a happy ending. (I honestly don’t know why; I just couldn’t figure it out how can I save my character. Maybe I didn’t even want it to.)
By the way, I’ll whisper something for you so listen carefully. “The comments can kill the angry chickens!” Deal with that information. Because they are real. THE CHICKENS ARE REAL!!!
I don’t know how mush you remembered from the “Returning to the Childhood Home,” one of my first writings in this blog, but this story is the “Returning to the Childhood Home” continuation. It will recover how Leona’s family will react about her boyfriend.
An independent, black girl, whose name’s Louisa Tarragon, were sitting in the bus. Next to her was a boy, and she already knew what he was thinking. Oh, my god, she’s black! Oh, my god, is she going to hit me? Oh, my, oh my… She could laugh at them endlessly. These European people. She thought. So stupid all of them.
The boy was listening music, and sometimes he glanced at her shyly. The tremble of his showed how scared he was. Even his hands was on his pocket as if he was trying to save from her. As if she’s going to rob him. As if! Hah!