Letters to Read
- Reads 12
- Votes 4
- Parts 2
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Weathering Blues
"What? You gonna avoid me again like you did today? Pretend I'm not here and call it a night?" Then there's Donovan. Bittersweet, underappreciated Donovan. My best friend. The only person I had known I could use as a safety cushion whenever things got tough. My punching bag, my own personal, opinionated diary. He snapped my journal shut, waving it at me. "Can you be honest for once in your life and tell me what that list is about?" "I am honest with you."I mumbled, distracted by the bruises and cuts on his hand. "What happened there?" "Don't dodge the question. If you're so honest, why didn't you tell me they were giving you a hard time?" "Because it doesn't matter." "And Mel?" I admit that the worry in his honeyed-earths had almost cracked my demeanor, leaving me feeling vulnerable enough to want to open up to him, to let him in on all the cruelty I've endured. That is until he mentioned her. He took my silence as the answer he wanted to his question. He wanted me to be the bad guy because he cared that much for her. Wanted me to take on the role of bad friend so it'd fit his story and make him secure in his feelings. "Don't touch my stuff, Donovan." I mumbled and plucked my journal out of his hands with no fight from his end. I tucked my secrets back on my bookshelf and leaned against the wall, arms crossed as I anticipated his next words. I was met with silence and a whole lot of eye judging and with that, my old nemesis, panick, set in. "Did you read it?" Gosh, I hate how fragile that came out. I need to pull myself together before I end up saying something I'd regret. "You still haven't answered my question about Mel." "Because it's insulting." I responded, balling my hands into a fist to keep from chewing on my nails. "Did you read my journal?" He scoffed. "What do you think?" ... A story that tells of the struggles of teenage life, embracing change and how to cope with society as a whole.
𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓
𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟.Complete
renaissance
a non fiction story about a mans life who is in shambles and he realizes that f he doesn't change things he's going to die a poor loser.Complete
Right Kind Of Wrong
The story of a young girl who is desperate to make a life of her own she needs to get away from her family .she isn't like them at all. The struggle of every day life has almost become unbareable ,until he arrives ...Complete
MAD BLACK WOMAN
in which she must deal with her husband's infidelity and the love she still has left for him. in which he must find the broken pieces of the love that fell apart.Complete
until forever
it's about a girl that is sad most of the time and some time she has a hard family but all she needs is a little love from them but she can't get itComplete
"What? You gonna avoid me again like you did today? Pretend I'm not here and call it a night?" Then there's Donovan. Bittersweet, underappreciated Donovan. My best friend. The only person I had known I could use as a safety cushion whenever things got tough. My punching bag, my own personal, opinionated diary. He snapped my journal shut, waving it at me. "Can you be honest for once in your life and tell me what that list is about?" "I am honest with you."I mumbled, distracted by the bruises and cuts on his hand. "What happened there?" "Don't dodge the question. If you're so honest, why didn't you tell me they were giving you a hard time?" "Because it doesn't matter." "And Mel?" I admit that the worry in his honeyed-earths had almost cracked my demeanor, leaving me feeling vulnerable enough to want to open up to him, to let him in on all the cruelty I've endured. That is until he mentioned her. He took my silence as the answer he wanted to his question. He wanted me to be the bad guy because he cared that much for her. Wanted me to take on the role of bad friend so it'd fit his story and make him secure in his feelings. "Don't touch my stuff, Donovan." I mumbled and plucked my journal out of his hands with no fight from his end. I tucked my secrets back on my bookshelf and leaned against the wall, arms crossed as I anticipated his next words. I was met with silence and a whole lot of eye judging and with that, my old nemesis, panick, set in. "Did you read it?" Gosh, I hate how fragile that came out. I need to pull myself together before I end up saying something I'd regret. "You still haven't answered my question about Mel." "Because it's insulting." I responded, balling my hands into a fist to keep from chewing on my nails. "Did you read my journal?" He scoffed. "What do you think?" ... A story that tells of the struggles of teenage life, embracing change and how to cope with society as a whole.
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