If I took three showers, and washed with 15 shampoos, my hair would still be Rapunzel - L'intreccio della torre after an hour. Looi, my brother, always detto my hair looked like I dyed it, when I didn’t. I looked down, my shoes were already on with the black shoe laces. I felt like I needed to barf. At least that’s what it felt like. Greeting hopped on the counter and stared at me. The brown cat pelliccia was splotched with black dots and white lines. She is a different cat, that’s why I like her. I looked back at the mirror. Well, te look terrible today, I thought.
“Greeting, te can’t look at me like that. I know I look awful. Now, get off the counter!” I half yelled and half laughed. I made a motion for her to get off of the bathroom counter. The cat looked at me and stared. Greeting’s head turned to the side and coughed up a hairball. She made a gagging sound and then stopped. Ew, I thought, and through it in the garbage.
I looked down at her. She ran towards the living room.
“Polar! Come here boy!” I shouted. Polar, the siberian husky, growled from the living room at Greeting. I smiled and switched shirts from a bleached gray blouse, to a flowy, black t-shirt. Polar trotted into the bathroom and barked at me. His light blue eyes were burning at the cat. I looked back and picked Greeting up.
“Do not bite the cat! You’re supposed to be eating your dog Cibo and not in here. Great! I’m talking to a dog, what else is wrong with me?” I yelled and stroked Greeting, while I bowed my head in shame. She jumped down when Polar left. I shook my head and went back to trying to un-tangle my hair. When I looked back at the mirror, I noticed something.
Hmph.
Another blonde hair on my shoulder.
Watching.
I turned my head really quickly towards the big 7 foot window facing the back woods of our house. It was half snowing and half... not, snowing.
I had a gut feeling that I would be in great danger if I went to this school. It was mostly because of the weird rubbed blonde hair on my jackets, they just stuck on my random clothing, mostly jackets. Strange thing is, my mom doesn’t have blonde hair.
I picked it up and threw it into the trash can. My mind started to spin, around, around, and around. It couldn’t be a coincidence that I find blonde hairs over and over again on everything I own.
Is it a warning?
They seemed like a strange sign to stay away, like someone was telling me something. Like something was telling me that I was in grave danger in some sort of angry way I can’t explain. Telling me to back off. o was it a sort of greeting? Maybe something wants me to come somewhere. Maybe, the signs were telling me to go and meet new people, and try my best. How could blonde hair be a warning, though?
“Greeting, te can’t look at me like that. I know I look awful. Now, get off the counter!” I half yelled and half laughed. I made a motion for her to get off of the bathroom counter. The cat looked at me and stared. Greeting’s head turned to the side and coughed up a hairball. She made a gagging sound and then stopped. Ew, I thought, and through it in the garbage.
I looked down at her. She ran towards the living room.
“Polar! Come here boy!” I shouted. Polar, the siberian husky, growled from the living room at Greeting. I smiled and switched shirts from a bleached gray blouse, to a flowy, black t-shirt. Polar trotted into the bathroom and barked at me. His light blue eyes were burning at the cat. I looked back and picked Greeting up.
“Do not bite the cat! You’re supposed to be eating your dog Cibo and not in here. Great! I’m talking to a dog, what else is wrong with me?” I yelled and stroked Greeting, while I bowed my head in shame. She jumped down when Polar left. I shook my head and went back to trying to un-tangle my hair. When I looked back at the mirror, I noticed something.
Hmph.
Another blonde hair on my shoulder.
Watching.
I turned my head really quickly towards the big 7 foot window facing the back woods of our house. It was half snowing and half... not, snowing.
I had a gut feeling that I would be in great danger if I went to this school. It was mostly because of the weird rubbed blonde hair on my jackets, they just stuck on my random clothing, mostly jackets. Strange thing is, my mom doesn’t have blonde hair.
I picked it up and threw it into the trash can. My mind started to spin, around, around, and around. It couldn’t be a coincidence that I find blonde hairs over and over again on everything I own.
Is it a warning?
They seemed like a strange sign to stay away, like someone was telling me something. Like something was telling me that I was in grave danger in some sort of angry way I can’t explain. Telling me to back off. o was it a sort of greeting? Maybe something wants me to come somewhere. Maybe, the signs were telling me to go and meet new people, and try my best. How could blonde hair be a warning, though?
Shaun
I wonder, sometimes, if she ever thinks of me.
If she knows that I kept only one picture of her. Anything else was just too painful. In the picture, she doesn't know I am taking it until the camera flash goes off. She has been sitting at the scrivania, reception in her old bedroom, and she is half-smiling.
**************************************************
I walk up to her, not breaking eye contact. Nothing existed but her.
The little girl was perched on her hip.
I trailed my fingers down her jawline. She still didn't move.
"Why did te leave?"
I wonder, sometimes, if she ever thinks of me.
If she knows that I kept only one picture of her. Anything else was just too painful. In the picture, she doesn't know I am taking it until the camera flash goes off. She has been sitting at the scrivania, reception in her old bedroom, and she is half-smiling.
**************************************************
I walk up to her, not breaking eye contact. Nothing existed but her.
The little girl was perched on her hip.
I trailed my fingers down her jawline. She still didn't move.
"Why did te leave?"
Time is just a thing.
te can't ever have to little.
te can always have enough.
But when te look at it,
our lives are just a piece.
A piece of what time has to give.
So why not live the fullest,
to what we can.
Why waste it wishing,
on something you'll never have.
Let time do its own thing,
so we can do ours.
te see time is mysterious.
It controls our lives.
And in one quick second,
our time may be up.
So take what you're given,
and give nothing back.
With time nothing is ever what it seems.
te can't ever have to little.
te can always have enough.
But when te look at it,
our lives are just a piece.
A piece of what time has to give.
So why not live the fullest,
to what we can.
Why waste it wishing,
on something you'll never have.
Let time do its own thing,
so we can do ours.
te see time is mysterious.
It controls our lives.
And in one quick second,
our time may be up.
So take what you're given,
and give nothing back.
With time nothing is ever what it seems.
Photograph by Ansel Adams
I'm just drifting, drifting down this road.
The dust kicking up behind me,
Just a nube, nuvola to hide my past.
My feet don't leave any footprints,
My name never graces those lips
That I'm watching from a distance,
A distance that grows greater
As I'm drifting, drifting down this road.
I'm not on the way to anything great,
I'm just hiding, hiding down in the dark.
The shadows closing in around me,
Just a blanket to smother my past.
My eyes can't see in the gloom,
My voice never breaks the silence
That I keep deep in my heart,
A cuore that grows blacker
As I'm drifting, drifting in the dark.
