The MessengerMy life flashed before my eyes as I slipped off of my ladder. I threw my arms out to break my fall. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion when my arms hit the cold marble floor with a sickening crack that echoed though the room. Pain shot alarmingly to my right arm. I screamed, loud enough to wake up everyone within a mile. I glanced at my arm. My bone, as white as snow, stood out through my pale skin with blood gushing from the exit wound. I began hyperventilating, my chest heaved as I desperately tried to gather air. “Elizabeth?” I knew the voice, I couldn’t think of his name, not now at least. “Liz?” The voiceThe Messenger
| Well. I'm pretty old. Sort of. I love bagels. I'm a huge procrastinator. I suck at life and you do to so we must swallow. I have an odd sense of humor, I blame my dad (who is a total weirdo and a bit pervy to old ladies). I want to go to college but I'm really lazy. I love to write butI have the tendency to stop writing and never getting back to it....I should stop that. So...yeah, fun stuff about me. |
I'm Back
Tired
Thank You Stacy!
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'!everybody knows that life can be wonderful!'
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I could tell my parents hated me. My bath toys were a toaster and a radio.
Geeeeeeez.
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By the time you swear you're his, Shivering and sighing, And he vows his passion is Infinite, undying, Lady, make a note of this-
One of you is lying. -------Dorothy Parker
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