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𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆. 𝑰 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑨'𝒔. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒖𝒑. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒖𝒑𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅. 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒔. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒅.
𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅.
𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒑. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚; 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑰 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔, 𝒐𝒓 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈; 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒕. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏.
𝑾𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍. 𝑾𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆. 𝑾𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕. 𝑾𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝟐𝟎 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒚. 𝑾𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒕. 𝑾𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒆. 𝑾𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒂 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔. 𝑾𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒖𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒔𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒑? 𝑰 𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘, "𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒊𝒕." "𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒊𝒕?" 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒅, "𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅," 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.
𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒗𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒛𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝑰 𝒈𝒐𝒕. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒉.
~𝑹𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆 :-)
YOU ARE READING
To Jump Off That Cliff
Dragostei had an english assignment where we had to write a story about love written like another story we read in class and i wanted to share.
