Mother is the rock, I am the ocean. I have to pout and roll my eyes for hours until she finally wears down and crumbles into a thousand grains of beach sand. It takes a lot of energy. I don't think I...
My bed is sending out serious nap rays.
My job is to nod or shake my head, to say I know what you mean, when I don’t, and That is so unfair, when it isn’t.
Non riesco a fermarmi, ma non posso andare avanti.
The false innocenceyou render for themby censoring truthprotects only you.
The merry-go-round is spinning too fast. I want to get off. I want to close my eyes, or just blink.
The one good thing about being kind of shy is that nobody bugs you when you want to be left alone.
Too much sleep is bad for your health, Matilda. She slipped a freshly made ball of butter into a stone crock. It must be such a grippe, a sleeping sickness.
Underground, pale seeds roll over in their sleep. Starting to get restless. Starting to dream green.
We were secret sisters with a plan for world domination, potential bubbling around us like champagne.
Who cares what the color means? How do you know what he meant to say? I mean, did he leave another book called Symbolism in My Books? If he didn't, then you could just be making all of this up. Does a...
Am spinning the silk threads of my story, weaving the fabric of my world. The tiny elf dancer became a wooden doll whose strings were jerked by people not paying attention. I spun out of control. Eati...
Stories entertainengage, outrageuplift, help usovercomeour troubles. . .stories activate, motivate,celebrate, cerebrate,snare our fatesand share our greatincarnations of hope
Too large, the mayor said. If it breaks free of its chains,
Weareheretogetagoodfoundation sowecangotocollegeliveuptoourpotentialgetagoodjoblivehap pilyeverafterandgotoDisneyWorld,
Broken leaves flew into the air from the violence of his thrashing, and the gore and blood kept pouring from the black hole in his belly and from his mouth - surely enough blood for ten men, a sight h...
He says we will graduate knowing how to read and write because we'll spend a million hours learning how to read and write. Why not spend that time on art: painting, sculpting, charcoal, pastel, oils?...
I am Outcast.The kids behind me laugh so loud I know they’re laughing about me. I can’t help myself. I turn around. It’s Rachel, surrounded by a bunch of kids wearing clothes that most definitely did...
I am learning how to be angry and sad and lonely and joyful and excited and afraid and happy.
I am not going to think about it. It was ugly, but it’s over, and I’m not going to think about it.
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