PEACE KIDS.


the middle years IThe tires squealed against the ice, making horrible screeching noises, the way you'd expect a stab victim to scream, sending up bits of dirty ice that pelted at the three figures pushing the back of the car, trying desperately to rock the battered Civic out of the divots the spinning tires had dug. Taylor feels one of the chunks of ice smack his arm and pushes harder to compensate for the stinging sensation. He feels odd, sweating in the freezing cold, both hot and icy at the same time. His hands are pretty much numb. He had left his gloves on the passenger seat of his pickup truck. Instead of feeling sorry for himself, he pushes harder. &nbsthe middle years I


the journal of emery fieldingHow could I have known?the journal of emery fielding
I found the book stuffed into my bag. I was a student then, a promising literature and linguistics major, and I carried at least five books on any given day. I loved them; they were my constant companions. I read on the weekends while others went out and got drunk and acted stupid. It was my solace. It's not any wonder that it took me a little while to realize that the little leather bound book was in my bag at all. If I knew then what I know now, I would have tossed that book in the garbage. I never would have looked at it at all.
But, being a literature major, any book will immediately hold


the missing piece part II pace, bag still on my arm, mind going everywhere. Its so strange how hearts can beat so close to one another and one is broken because of the other and no one has any idea. Its so strange how there are so many different kinds of rejection and heartbreak in the world and how Ive managed to experience all of them. For just the briefest moment, eyes closed, blissfully asleep, I was back in the safest place, back to being a child again, and for that moment, I was whole again. That was how it was for us; mostly, we bickered and puffed out our chests, shows of bravado and a façade of cool, poked at each other with steel tipthe missing piece part I
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"To really ask is to open the door to the whirlwind. The answer may annihilate the question and the questioner." - Lestat
thanx 4 supporting my stuff
take care,
anny
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//.error
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.I Create My Own World.
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"Sex is like pizza. Even when it's bad, it's still fucking pizza." - =CleverConveyence
=StarKissedSapphire - We are sisters at heart, just miles apart
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Sometimes the only sane answer to an insane world is insanity
The angle of view and the position from which you view your reality will change your perception of its nature, it is all literally, a matter of perspective
Kxx
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the trick is to keep breathing.
Thank you so much for the fav.
Deb
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