Dreaming of the day we had some alternative plans,
Like holding hands and staring up and counting little stars.
Smart enough to know it's sort of just a little joke.
I'm sorry, I never meant to be like this...

I've always liked to write song lyrics, and I usually can't keep up with the song, but sometimes I'll try to, and then my writing is so terribly, and usually illegible...

but this week is Thanksgiving week, what does Rachel have that she is thankful for?

love, family, friendship, sight, sound, taste, touch, sometimes smell...

I'm glad to have Adam, that my father is still here, that my friends are willing to be so helpful, making it to the next stepping stone, a gently twirling crucible, a really good crunch roll, running fingers through hair, and Aqua de Gio or Perry Ellis...

I don't say thank you enough to people that deserve it...

so thank you

I hope you don't feel neglected or pushed back or stepped on or used but I really do appreciate you; that you may feel over looked because I do think of you, I may not remember all the time, but I suppose I'm just forgetful like that.

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When you think about the consequences of your actions, how far ahead do you think? A week? Or maybe a month? Or even a year? I've realized how hard certain decisions can be, and I look to others for help. Is it only because I'm having a hard time deciding, or is it because I rely too much on others? And then I find out that maybe I do rely too much on others, especially when the only helping piece of information is, "That's something you need to decide for yourself."

It's why I hate mentally challenging decisions. Should I go with the solid path or not? And if I choose the easy way out, will I always be, "Well, what if...?"

I hate what ifs..

I hate subjects like English and History because a lot of it is based on points of view. Our side of a war is certainly different than the other side, what you gather from one story isn't what someone else gathers from that same story. Math and Science are wonderful because there's only one right answer. One solid fucking path. You can't look at a math problem and say, "Well I think it's saying this..." So sure, there might be different ways to solve it, but you're still gonna get the same answer.

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He was walking on a line, whistling to himself when he noticed out of the corner of his eye a flash of red. Turning, he stopped whistling, and that's when he heard a lighter tune than his own. He followed the sound with his eyes until they fell upon the sight of her. He'd never seen anyone like her before. She spoke to him, and it was like poetry. The words didn't make any sense, but their sounds pleased him. They flowed out of her mouth and painted a picture before him, something straight from his dreams. He lifted his gaze from her lips to her hair. It was soft like red satin, and made gentle waves in the passing breeze.

He felt he should get closer to bask in her presence. He inhaled deeply and walked forward. He watched the ground ahead of him, not wanting to spoil the dream of her sight.

Only a few feet now and he hardly dared to look up, yet his dream was gone. The song coming from her was no longer light and pleasing. The notes were sour and desperate. The words she spoke fell dead on his ears. Her hair was no longer the gentle satin, but more like a ball of fire. In her eyes he noticed a longing he couldn't answer to. Where had his dream gone? he wondered.

He turned his back to her in disappointment and continued on his way, following the same line and whistling his tune. From behind him the words, once dead, lifted off the floor; her hair tempted to mesmerize him once more, but now he knew better.

Labels: fiction junction

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