THE PRODIGAL
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- Parts 25
I'm pretty sure I am dead.
I know what other people say about me. I know what they whisper about me, talking like they know crap. They know nothing. But to give you a little insight into who this story belongs to, here's what they say so far about me: brave, arrogant, a leader, funny, dependable, responsible, and probably handsome on the outside.
But on the inside? Huh, you probably would've seen a grave.
And I don't know which one is the real grave-where my heart lies, or where my feet are standing right now.
I felt the hot smoke enveloping and touching the inside of my throat before it was pushed back out of my mouth, and I couldn't take my eyes off the tombstone.
What a joke.
To be alive just to stay dead and be alive again.
To be lost and be found.
To leave and to return.
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#172
cleanlove
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Hello. I’m Cassidy. I’m 16 years old, and I am helpless. I’m weak, defenseless and not to mention unassuming. I am utterly boring and uninteresting. I wouldn’t be surprised if God himself overlooked me. Maybe that’s why my life sucks so much. My face is dull and pale, and my hair is mousy brown. My eyes are black and my fingers are long and stringy. Once in junior high, a teacher likened me to ghost. I had wanted to tell her, “Yes. I remind myself of a ghost sometimes too.” But I didn’t say anything in return. I have one friend and even she doesn’t like me for me; only for the shiny new car my step dad bought me. Boys don’t notice me. And when they do it’s only to pick out my flaws and display them to everyone around. All in all, I am a sad and pathetic specimen of a human being. Why am I writing this? Because on June 3rd, 2011, at 12:31 am, I died.
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