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tanglesaturnflie

Justina Vivera
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....realize you're a loser because you have no Saturday night plans and you're probably going to spend the evening reading some fantasy novel which consists of about fifty dog-eared pages with highlighted or underlined passages that you've read at least one-hundred and sixty-seven times. And although you would never admit it, you wouldn't mind if Robert Pattinson crashed through the window and took you for a ride soaring over the tree tops. We ALL want to have a Bella "holy shit, this isn't real" moment (minus the awkwardness that Kristen Stewart contributes) so don't you dare say you don't.

I'm drinking from a mug that reads: BAD TO THE BONE with one of those crossbone/skull things on it. My mother and "the boyfriend" decided to add this hunk of porcelain to my massive mug collection (the mugs are big, not the collection, in case you were wondering, which you probably weren't, becuase really, why would you care? most likely no one's even reading this. the majority of the people who actually took time out of their lives TO read this probably stopped at the Robert Pattinson thing) when they went to A.C (atlantic city..hoping you knew that one) and decided I was some kind of baddass. It's not like I care what the mug looks like as long as its big and can fit exorbitant amounts of coffee in it. But really though..me? Bad to the bone? I can hit you with a stream of saracastic comments that will either leave you scarred for life or crying in a corner, but I wouldn't say I was PURE evil.

I feel like starting a new paragraph now, simply becuase I can. There's this girl in my English class who is totally and utterly stupid. She's book smart, but she's completely unaware of the spinning world around her or rather that the world IS spinning around her. It's like she's at the center if the planet entirely cut off from the rest of us. She's so ignorant that she's ignorant of the meaning of ignorance! We read this short story called "The Harvest." It was about an elderly man who the whole town thought to be some crazy old guy. He would take walks in a corn feild and would never let anybody follow him. One day these two boys decided to see what he was up to. They sneakily pursued him saw that he was digging wholes in the ground. He would hollow out one foot deep patches of dirt with a coffe can and lay his hand inside. Of course the two boys spread the news to the town and the people thought he was even more crazy. Later on, one of the two boys set to perfrom the same task as the old man. He had to know why he was doing this. He went to a field and dug a whole in the soil. He placed his hand on the dirt and closed his eyes. "He felt the Earth move. Felt the warmth of the Earth...carressing his fingers...It was like when someone died. You always blamed yourself for not loving them more before they died." The story was about not taking things for granted, in this case nature. Since nothing can get past the brick wall encasing this girl's thick head, she also had the myopic opinion of the rest of the town. She thought the man was crazy and nothing more. It just goes to show that she's one of those people who lacks the patience for understanding. Though I myself have low tolerance for the indiffernt.
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I woke up this morning to the sound of heavy raindrops beating against my window. The neon light from my clock was blinding as my eyes adjusted to the near-darkness in the room. When clear vision finally returned to me, I saw the numbers read 4:32 am. An hour and 13 minutes before my alarm is set to go off. An hour an thirteen minutes before Lou and Liz of "THE POINT" crew will inform me of any traffic or accidents that have happened before 5:45 in the morning. An hour and thirteen minutes before 94.3 will play some over-rated song that most listeners will probably tune out of because the only people it actually appeals to are asleep in their beds at 4:32 am, unlike me.

I pull the covers up around me and nestle my head against my pillow trying to get comfortable. But I can't seem to stay still. Tossing and turning, the sheets become twisted. I suddenly feel as if I am trapped, tied down. My hair has become loose and is wrapped around my neck. The frizzy strands are strangling me. The once cool sheets are now burning my skin like scorching sand under the sun. I drift away from reality and into unconsciousness. The beach in my dream is like no other I've seen. The tide is a thousand feet high, violently crashing onto the shoreline when the waves break. The beach is vacant save for the baleful seagulls that appear to be the size of vultures. It is raining, but the drops are not cold. Instead, they are boiling, causing searing pain to my cheeks which are the only part of my skin still above the sand. The tiny eroded rocks have almost completely devoured me. As they slowly consume me, what little light I can see disappears. I am soon in darkness.

The fiery touch of the sand leaves my skin as I am abruptly pulled from sleep by Bruno Mars. He tells me I’m amazing just the way I am. The covers are still wrapped around my body. I untangle myself in frustration angrily kicking away the covers. I sigh deeply and wipe the cool sweat that has formed on my brow. I practically drag myself into a sitting position and see my dark silhouette outlined in the mirror by blue light. I turn to the clock and turn off the radio. With the music no longer playing, I can hear the sound of falling rain. I cringe as I remember now, the nightmare I’ve just escaped from.
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One of those sucky Saturday mornings where you,,,, by tanglesaturnflie, journal

Rainy Days Are Never Good Beginnings by tanglesaturnflie, journal