My name is not 'OnePiece' believe it or not. My name is Jillian Lewis, or Jill if you prefer. Since I'm pretty sure you don't want to read a really boring biography about myself, let's start with my favourite past times: story telling. And after each story, I'll tell you about myself and my situation. So you'll get two stories in one chapter. Deal? Thank you, for reading this. It means a lot to me, it really does.
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There was once a small turtle. A plain turtle, there was nothing special about him and his heavy and cracked grey shell. Except, it wanted to be colourful. The turtle wanted to be absolutely spectacular, with vibrant colour for all of the woods to see.
He also wanted to fly like a Bluejay, or a fragile butterfly. Or maybe like a flower, floating softly away in the wind, away from the ground.
The turtle looked at the sky longingly, slowly moving, trying with all of his might to follow the butterflies. They soared through the trees. Flying in and out of the canopy, teasing him, showing him he couldn't fly like them. He couldn't travel anywhere he liked. He begged the world to let him lift into in the sky where freedom thrived.
He imagined what it must be like, leaving the dirt and dust behind and flowing through the winds and clouds. Feeling the soft, cool puffs of mist wisp by, exploring the sky with the sunsets' colours chasing you as you sped towards the bright sun. The sun, the amazing light that tells animals to sleep or wake. Giving the flying animals a glow to see the world in greens and blues, and the hues of rainbows. Chasing after the glowing brilliance the birds and I would go and go. Being apart of the birds as they have their annual flying contest together, all of them floating with the glorious turtle. They would be impressed with his adorned colours, chirping happily as they passed vast lands far unlike any he has ever imagined. The chirping would continue, fading into the sunset with him, as he was happy on the inside. His heart uplifted, and his eyes twinkling with cheer unlike any other. He would be joyful, somewhere in the clouds, where his dreams have come true. The colours of the sun, the rainy breeze cuddling him with blankets of lovely hope.
The weight of realisation crashed upon him. He realised, that no matter how much he sought for the dream he possessed, he will never touch the pillowy clouds that travelled by. He knew, he was just a scratched up, plain grey turtle. Never to see the world like the butterflies do. He was to stay on the ground, wasting away into the dirt and dust. Him, and his dreams of breathing the colours of the sunset will wither, and will only leave a small mark on the ground he walks on.--------------------------------------------
Hello again! If you could comment, that would be astounding for me.
Now, a bit about myself. I love Italian food, the only food I'll eat honestly. I've been starving myself from breakfast and lunch lately, and haven't told anyone about it. Sometimes no dinner either. Its been going on for a while, and it's a habit I can't break now. I've felt like something is wrong with me if I do eat anything, like I'll become fat and everyone will hate me again. I don't want to be made fun of again. It diggs a sharp pain in my chest just thinking of the flashbacks. Rejection, my life is surrounded by it. I'll talk to you all later. Lots of Love.
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The World
Non-FictionPeople who care Depression Hurt Pain People who need love are here I'm going to be frank, I need help I was hoping anyone could help me Please My heart hurts