Devious Journal EntrySo I finished writing this dialogue thing where one character is talking with this other guy. Like:
1: Good morning.
2: What's wrong?
1: I'm sick.
2: Really?
1: Yeah. Really. Why would I lie about that?
2: I don't know. Where's my jacket?
1: What?
2: My jacket. Have you seen it?
1: No. why?
2: Don't be a jackass. Because it's cold, that's why.
1: No, it's not. The sun's shining, the air's warm. Trust me, it's really annoying. You can't miss it.
2: What? No, it's--ow! What was that?
1: What do you mean?
2: Oh, God, my leg--look, my leg--
1: There's nothing there. Calm down--
And, well, I'd love to finish this, but, well, I'm a little busy. But I got down what I could. Long story short, the guy with the invisible leg problem freaks the fuck out and turns into a monster, whereby the other guy runs like hell but doesn't get far. The end. Devious Journal Entry by ~rrbb1313
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PeopleI mentioned earlier that I don't think relationships work out. I'm not pessimistic enough to think no relationship ever works out, but, well, people can't stand me very long. And I probably wouldn't stand another person too long. But I do have a belief that the majority of relationships don't work out, and it isn't exactly an unfounded idea. People are nice to be acquaintances with, and friends are great, too, but I've never really lasted in one of those longer than a year and a half. It's actually rather pitiful.
That reminded me of the first time I heard the word piteous: in a GameCube game, Mario Sunshine, I think...what a random thought. The first time I saw the word peculiar was in Daisy Head Mayzie by Dr. Seuss. Why do I remember that?
But people don't just fit together so easily. They think they do, but they don't. They just don't. I don't know why, but a lot of people don't fit together and they just try and try and are too afraid to break up or they try to convince them People by ~rrbb1313
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StreetThe streets are always busy, but not today.
There is a girl waving at me from across the bared asphalt, without the insistent fumbling of a thousand feet.
There, on the curb, in the cracks in the sidewalk, there are flowers growing, a pale, dull green like jade, a spark of something yellow and small.
Behind her, there is an old tenement building whose residents are shut up, out of calm, out of sight, like always. There is a splash of fluorescent blue paint near one of the metal staircases, the beginning of a word in lilting, jagged script that I will never understand.
Even though I’ve never noticed these things before, I’ve be Street by ~rrbb1313
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NormalSometimes I am faced with a new situation, and I tell myself, "Just act normal!"
(Actually, I have never thought that in my entire life. However, protagonists in stories often think that very thought.)
But, in some stories, the protagonist will question themselves like so:
"What does it mean to be normal? Somehow, I don't know...."
Righteously intelligent, these protagonists are. Deeply philosophical.
When I am confronted with the opportunity to lie and make everything easier on myself, I do not feel the smallest speck of guilt.
(I have not had any chances to lie recently, so I do not know if this is still the case.)
But there is the p Normal by ~rrbb1313
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Sta.sh
