So I'm Out?

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Thomas' Normal Day The End Isn't Normal Though
For The Past 2 years.

(Dreaming)
"Hey Thomas!" My amazing (there's just not enough words to describe her) girlfriend yelled. "Oh hey, babe, wanna come over tonight?" I shout back as I walk up to her. "Sure. Whata we gonna do?" I wrap my arms around her waist and say, "This." I put my lips to her amazingly, soft ones, and trace them. I start to beg to enter her mouth. She grants my wish. I explore her mouth, only a little, and I can't help but think, 'She taste like heaven!'

BEEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEP BEEP BEEP

"Ugh! Damn alarm clock! I was having my best dream, I seem to play a fake relationship in. I get dressed. Relishing the tattoo of Carrie's number on my hand, where she wrote it 2 years ago. I hope I get to use it eventually.

I go to that dumb ass school. Math lesson today for the 10th grade: Multiplying Fractions! I know that my old school taught that in 5th grade. Now you know why I day dream all day about her beautiful face.

Go home fight with my mother. As usual, but this time she threatened me with her knife. Then a secret service guy said, that do to recent endangerment I can go live with my aunt again. A year after the shooting she moved next to Carrie. No one told her where it happened. He also said that they caught the shooters and they will be in prison for life for attempted murder! I say, "Give me 20 minutes and I'll be ready!" I run up stairs barely hearing him say "Ok I guess?"

I pack my clothes. That's all I really have except my laptop which my aunt Kim bought me. Which takes like 10 minutes then I run down stairs and my mother says, "If You Fucking Leave With That Guy, Don't You Ever Fucking Come Back! Even If You Get Shot A Billion Times!" I yell, "I won't come back!" As the car takes off. I think, 'until your dead.'

I know I will be there, to Carrie in a couple hours. I start to think how I'll tell her how she is my everything. How she is the only reason I didn't kill myself and why I didn't give up in the hospital. I hope she'll understand the scars on my wrists and why I cry so much at 1:30 a.m. And why my back has so many welts and scars. Mother never did hit the bullet scars. Then I drift off into my fake relationship.





Please read the picture. Of anything I want you to do is read this picture.
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