checkminus4life

Randall's grandmother had always told him that there was beauty in everything in this world. She had, however, never taught him how to see it. Almost twenty years had passed since she had first told him those words,and, as he watched his ex-girlfriend's apartment complex burn to the ground, he finally knew that his grandmother had been right. His ex, Amy, had never really done anything to deserve her apartment burning to ash, nor did most of the people who lived in her building. Some of them, however, probably did. Mr. Leonard, for example, probably deserved it if for no other reason than his bad taste in television and his love of watching

     Once upon a time, within the Kingdom of Hathelvania, there lived the lovely Princess Isabella. The princess, though still a young girl, was adored by all of the kingdom and especially adored by her father, King Anthony Cerullo. Upon her fifth birthday the king commissioned the court wizard, Galathir, to read bedtime stories to the young princess every night. Galathir, who had never had a child of his own, smiled and gladly accepted the task.     "Good evening, your highness," the old wizard said with the voice only a benevolent old man could muster. "Your father has asked me to tell you bedtime stories. What kind of stories do you lik

Memories seep into my mind like water into pavement, taking hold and expanding until my mind is forced to crack around them leaving gapping potholes between the folds of my brain that exist as a physical reminder of what once was. Dark abscesses where the memory of you has eroded everything, leaving nothing but a dark hole where so many other things used to be. But now I have to pave over it, create new folds to fill in what's been lost, new stretches of road to cover up the past. And I find myself desperately searching for the mixture of everything I need to do to cover up everything I remember of you- to mask the t

As a child I feared what lay beneath my bed, to me it was a monster who could devour me, slowly, but with great joy. Now, however, my mattress rests upon the floor and I find myself fearing everything else. That same terrible monster still exists, somewhere, but where it lurks I cannot tell. I presume it resides in my dresser slowly wrinkling my folded clothing and taking my favorite things away from me Or, maybe, it has moved on from me. Maybe That is the real fear, that after twenty one years of nightmares my personal demon has moved on to someone else, someone better. Someone who poses more of a challenge than I wh

I am a vessel, whose words slip from my lips like dew dripping from a spring leaf. Or, rather, I am but the leaf, catching the words that fall upon me, utilizing them for as long as I can, before they fall from my grasp and land in someone's else hands. For, while I desperately cling to the drops of water that have sought fit to land upon me, I grow greener and more brilliant. With every passing day, I catch more and more, absorbing as much as I can within my veins. Then, once the knowledge, the rain, has given me my fill I watch as it falls down to the next person. Granted, I could keep the rain for myself, curl my ce

I am twenty-one years old. I drink, I party, I study... sometimes. I am twenty one years old and I am poor, underserving of what little I have and am proud to complain about that fact. I am twenty one and, like every generation before me, I begin to feel myself loathe those around me. I loathe them for what they do have, what problems they don't have, and for being ungrateful in the same way that I am. I loathe them because I realize, more and more every day, that the people whom I despise, whose very essence perturbs me, are the people who remind me most of myself.

I will shed this year, I will molt it and leave it upon the ground so that the breeze  may take it away. I will become new, embracing the change  like a baby who can now walk, can now talk, can now be a better person.  Though I may not know what to say, or where to walk,  I know I shall discover it in time. For I can see the footprints left behind me through the snow, and through the shallow existence behind me I can go somewhere new, somewhere my feet have never touched. And in this new place I can use my new voice to tell people who I am, who this new me is. So that in this year I can find people who

If I hadn't of fallen ill in this dreadful place I would be doing something so much more fulfilling than being confined to this small room, head slumped down in the perfect concave space between my shoulder blades. My shoulders themselves have fallen to my sides, devoid of any semblance to their former strength. Quite possibly the only part of my body that could allude to strength are my fingers which clutch a powder blue box of tissues directly beneath my nose. Somewhere in my haze I heard a sudden knocking on the door to my bedroom. Rather, I heard a slow, hesitant knock on my door as though the person on the other side was unsure if I was

I don't want to get into this car. Well, maybe I want to get into the car, that wouldn't be so bad, but I don't want to have to go to work. Not today, any day but today. Or tomorrow. But, more importantly, not today. What time is it? Eleven fifty... crap. Need to leave, now. I can do this... I can do this... I can do this. I don't want to get out of this car. Eleven Fifty-Nine... shit. Need to move, need to go and get to work. I have three hours until she comes into work, three hours where I will distract my mind and think of something else, anything else. Anything but this. Noon. Shit, I'm late. Damn. Must move, must walk, must run, must do