Six Word Story

And then she left. For good.

Advertisements
Six Word Story

On my mind.

Over the summer I was sitting with a few friends in my garage up to some foolery and I sat there and thought to myself for a minute. When I was younger living in the city I had one of my longest term friends even though we don’t speak or hangout as much as I’d like to anymore I’d still do anything for the kid but that’s past the point. He had two older brothers Dominic and Vince, they and their group of friends it consisted of about ten of them. They were always up to no good. Anything from breaking into old gas stations to record them skateboarding to drugs. Joey my good friend, my buddy Garrett, and myself all loved skateboarding at the time and we always looked up to them because they were all really good at it and we thought they were the coolest kids on Earth. My mom always warned us when we’re at Joeys not to hangout with them or really even talked to them. They were the kids parents would always warn their kids not to hangout with them because they were always up to no good or getting in trouble with the police. Just a few years ago from present time I recall my mom handing me a news paper and first asked if I recalled the person who’s mug shot was at the top of the page of the article. I looked and it was a kid from right down the street who hung out with my buddies brother his name was Marshall. I asked if it was him and she said yes and told me to read the article. So I began to read it took me about five minutes to finish reading it. To make a long story short he was doing a drug deal at 3 AM and it got ugly for whatever reason and he ended up killing the guy with his car while Joey’s brother Dominic was in the car. Dom went down for an accomplice and Marshall is doing life currently, he was 20 years old he was sentenced. It’s crazy how these kids didn’t know we looked up to them so much. Maybe if they knew they wouldn’t have acted so stupid. Then again I didn’t think anybody looked up to me while I was out there screwing up. Until I found my little brother stealing my old cigarette butts. He’s in 8th grade the same age as me when I did the same thing and fucked up the next four years of my life. I pulled him aside one day when I caught him in the act and told him he has one chance not to do it again, one freebie before I went to our mom. After an hour long talk with him about how I messed up my life I have not seen him try to pick up a cigarette butt again. It’s just insane how you think what you do only will impact yourself and don’t even think if a little kid sees you they’re going to think it’s cool. But back to the point as I was looking back I thought of all of this, then myself. I got involved with drugs at an early age like them, had prior experiences with police and probation just like they all did. I sat and thought to myself I became the kid that parents warn their kids to hangout. There is no worse feeling in the world then realizing that that’s how people and their parents look at you. Since that little epiphany I personally think I’ve done a really good job in changing a lot of peoples views on me. That is the most rewarding feeling I’ve felt.

On my mind.

Now and then

I remember years ago when everything was much more simple. I’d wake up my mom would throw a Power Rangers shirt on me then I’d have a bowl of cereal and she’d walk me to school. Without a care in the world I would walk staring up at my mom with the biggest smile holding her hand, saying hello to anybody who walked by. Take me back to the days when I didn’t have one worry at all. At recess we’d chase the pretty girls and if they thought you were cute they’d chase you back, not having to worry about getting a text back. I’d sit after school perfectly content alone with my army figures playing in my sandbox, now I struggle to keep my gas tank over a quarter tank so I can go out on Friday to have “fun”. I’d sit for hours watching Rocket Power, or Spongebob with my family, now I can’t spend more then an hour with my family when they used to be the only friends I needed. I use to walk to every destination I had in mind and I could do it all day rain, snow, or sun. Now I walk twenty feet to hop in my car no matter how nice it is outside. My parents would look at me and tell me how much potential I have, I’d hear it from every adult at that point in my life actually. Then I grew up and it got to the point where my mom would ask me if I’m going to school today. Take me back to the simple times when everything came easy.

Now and then

Heartbreak Feels Like

A Buick in the Land of Lexus

Heartache_by_kilroyart

Heartbreak feels like horrible pains in your chest, like someone is stabbing you. And then crushing pressure. And you can’t breathe.

Heartbreak feels like you can’t stop crying.

Heartbreak feels like your stomach is twisted in knots and you can’t hold down any food.

Heartbreak feels like you pretended someone cared about you. Because you didn’t want to think about the alternative.

Heartbreak feels like finding the evidence of who they really loved.

Heartbreak feels like all the times they told you your writing was too long. That it bored them.

Heartbreak feels like your desire to write has been killed.

Heartbreak feels like you see all the times he read her work. And it’s so trivial, so nothing, it’s agony to wrap your brain around why he was so disinterested in your writing.

Heartbreak feels like a friendship you made up in your head. Because you needed a friend.

Heartbreak feels…

View original post 786 more words

Heartbreak Feels Like

Like Mother, Like Daughter: On Genes and Responsibility

Melissa Writes of Passage

image courtesy of Dwight Pounds Image courtesy of Dwight Pounds

Image courtesy of Dwight Pounds Image courtesy of Dwight Pounds

Driving the plane tree-canopied Roman roads of southern France with my parents last week, I noticed in my peripheral vision that my mom, sitting next to me in the back seat, was gripping the door handle.

Why the grip? I thought. She’s buckled in, there’s no one else on this road, Randall’s a safe driver, and we’re cruising this long, straight line. 

Mid-thought, I realized I was gripping my door handle, too. Exactly like her.

I also saw my mom was chewing gum. (I dislike gum-chewing.)

And mid-thought, I realized I was mid-chawnk.

She’s so animated, I’d been noticing all week, and look at her whip up a conversation with any stranger. Like me, my kids say.  And just like the way she used to call for us – operatically, throughout our little Utah neighborhood –– “Oh, Daaaaaltons! Come…

View original post 1,496 more words

Like Mother, Like Daughter: On Genes and Responsibility

About me

I’ve lived in Hartland the last 7 years of my life at heart I feel like I still belong in my beloved city. I have one person I actually call a friend and ironicly he was born in the city too. I have two pets my puppy who is my only weakness in this world, and my alligator. I remember my mom always telling me not to hang around with my buddies older brothers because they were bad influences. My biggest fear was ending up like the kids she warned me about in my youth. But unfortunately being raised in the city you are always exposed to things you wish you weren’t. from freshman to junior year I was one of those kids. I found myself with encounters with the law on a few occasions and still kept doing what I was doing thinking there was nothing wrong. When I finally kicked my habits my mom told me “Don’t let the person you were in the past define the man you will be in the future.” That is my inspiration to do good, and that is my inspiration to write.

About me