Comments Posted By Meg
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He chose that specific word, Cara knew, so that she would not hope for anything more. Buddy. The word twisted the inside of her stomach. He had said it so casually, throwing it out in the air flippantly. Still, it made its mark on her.
» Posted By Meg On 02.22.2018 @ 1:26 pm
Closing the door of her apartment behind her, she drops her bag onto the counter and slides off her shoes. Home.
It had been a long day today, longer than usual. It was already 1 a.m. in the morning. Her shift, which was supposed to end at 9, went late when she covered for a friend.
“Casey owes me big time,” Max grumbled, talking to herself.
Walking down the hallway barefoot, a loud crash coming from the sitting room caused Max to stop.
Reaching for the closest blunt object near her, a chunk of rose quartz. Max crept forwards to peer around the corner, to see a hulking figure in front of her.
Raising the chunk of rock, she ran forward prepared to bring down the weapon.
“Ah!” The figure shouted, holding both arms in front of his now familiar face.
“Casey? Ugh, you idiot,” Max said shaking her head.
» Posted By Meg On 01.08.2017 @ 6:35 pm
It’s always been a tradition to try harder than the last generation. A tradition to give more. A tradition to give back and be better, greater, stronger. But this was not something that interested Mary. She had forgotten tradition. Not so much forgotten as abandoned. It was not her tradition to carry forward. It was not one she wished to abide.
» Posted By meg On 01.02.2017 @ 3:39 pm
She hated any type of firearm. I knew that, it was glaringly obvious. She couldn’t look at any gun without flinching, she couldn’t touch a gun to save her life. It was secretly one of the reasons I had come to love her so much. She truly was amazing. I had proposed not two months ago.
“Why should anyone use violence to fix a problem? Why use a gun when you can simply talk? ” She’d argue with anyone who’d ask about her aversion to guns.
Heck, she didn’t even cuss; she was the reason I didn’t anymore.
But there she was, gripping the handle of a gun up to face me. The barrel of the gun straight in between my two eyes.
The last thing I registered just before I watched her pull that trigger, was the resolve in her caramel colored eyes.
» Posted By Meg On 01.01.2017 @ 4:33 pm
You train your whole life. You are 26. You’ve never had a drink of anything but water. You’ve never had anything with any sugar. You have only ever known a life of work and sweat. You only know what it is to push.
You travel half way across the world, you are signed up for a race that really can’t last more than eleven seconds.
Your trainer gives you the same pep talk, your mom says she’s proud, your friend says you will win no matter what: “It’s inevitable.”
You are ready.
You breathe in.
You breathe out.
The shot rings out-
And you’ve lost.
You’ve just lost the Olympics:
by .02 seconds.
» Posted By Meg On 12.29.2016 @ 8:33 pm
I pride myself in the fact that I have rarely ever taken any selfies.
I’ve never liked them, mostly because I didn’t particularly like any pictures which included my face.
But now he is gone, off in some strange land with a strange culture, and I was left with nothing, not a single picture to remember his face.
Not a single picture to help my fragile recollection of his jaw structure, or eye color.
And I can’t help but think, if I had been a selfie person, I’d have at least one picture to remember him.
» Posted By Meg On 12.28.2016 @ 8:58 pm
He was man of balance. He had centered his word completely on the immaterial. And then he lost people. A lot of people.
The man he became after that was someone he could never recognize. If people dies so often anyways, why did it matter if he took over why they passed away?
» Posted By Meg On 12.20.2016 @ 2:21 pm
They snuck out late into the night and took what they could carry. They never took anything valuable enough to be missed. Small portions of food, jugs of water. Clothes or blankets from garages. They never took anything of tangible value. But for the families that did recognize the absence of food or material, the thieves stole the most valuable thing- a sense of safety.
» Posted By Meg On 10.27.2016 @ 11:08 pm
Accusations. People point fingers without all of the facts. How many have been wrongly accused of something? Open your eyes, people! Stop pointing fingers and start looking inside.
» Posted By Meg On 02.13.2016 @ 1:10 pm
One fateful day, a girl was walking down a road and she saw a dog. The dog was a street dog and it was the most adorable dog in the word and she wanted to take it home to keep as a pet.
» Posted By Meg On 02.07.2016 @ 7:55 pm
olivia is annoying me a bunch, but i love her a bunch. she is a bunch of crap, but all her bunch is worth it. bunches of love in our bunch
» Posted By meg On 01.19.2016 @ 7:33 pm
It was the constant blaming he’d receive from the other siblings that drove him kind of crazy, not one of those incidents had been his fault.
» Posted By Meg On 12.21.2015 @ 6:47 pm
We were walled in, not in the way you’d think. It wasn’t a tangible wall, but anyone could see it. But no one ever commented on it. The fact was, we were terrified. Traumatized to go near the outskirts of the city. And all of it was over a lie.
» Posted By Meg On 12.12.2015 @ 9:18 am
Oh gosh .I remember working banquets at Castagnola’s. The small upstairs kitchen. Having to wear a white shirt. I didn’t have a white shirt. I didn’t hace much. I borrowed a white shirt from another waitress. It was super wrinkled. I tried ironing it in the upstairs women’s bathroom but it didn’t work. And I remember at the end of the banquet the manager on duty, Ed, saying to me, “Don’t ever wear a shirt like that on my floor again.”
» Posted By meg On 11.28.2015 @ 1:49 pm
We ran along the beach, racing one another. At the time we had been the closest of friends, closer than the Sisters Grimm, or the Twisted Sisters. We were racing, and as we came to a stop near the sand castles built by our parents, we grinned as we each tried to regain our breath.
» Posted By Meg On 10.15.2015 @ 10:26 am
New York is a funny place, those who are native strive to fit in more than the tourists. I walk down from the theatre, and while a couple giggling fan girls come by for autographs, one of them in an IDAHO! sweatshirt, the new yorkers around are giving me sympathetic looks. Trying to act like they don’t want to do the same. With looks of plastic, painted disdain written on their faces. Like the oh so adoring fans are the problem, rather than their own proud and snobbish noses, high in the air.
» Posted By Meg On 10.14.2015 @ 12:39 pm
I was never much for races. Not because I wasn’t fast, but because I didn’t like the rift between competitors. And I’d much rather be an average then to make someone feel bad that I am ahead. And the same went for him, I would not compete with her over him. Simply because he wasn’t mine in the first place. He is my friend, but I would not risk losing my friendship with her over him. It’s just a shame she couldn’t tell how much this bothered me.
» Posted By Meg On 10.10.2015 @ 11:17 am
My mother hung wallpaper while we were in school. She hung it for friends and then started doing it for clients. She was good at it. It takes precision and patience, she had both. She used to carry around with her these long bags full of rollers and rolls of wallpaper. She had buckets and trays for the paste. It was exhausting work. She knew how wallpaper worked. Could tell the difference between the good kind and the bad. The bad kind did not stick well and the bad kind left large sections of paste on the wall, and sometimes refused to peel off. This wallpaper required her to pick and pick with metal spatula.
» Posted By meg On 09.28.2015 @ 10:23 am
It was the way they acted that bothered me the most. When I first entered that building. They’d laugh and talk, telling jokes, and knocking one another’s shoulders. For four years I watched this happen. I did it too. Laughed, and pretended it was okay. That everything was fine, here in our bubbles. But no one was. Not really. Sometimes I forgot, that I wasn’t the only one pretending. It sucked, those four years. And as I left, I hoped, just a little bit out there. Outside the buildings that contained us. They problem was, we all speak of how much High School sucked, but that is just it. When I left that school, nothing had changed. It’s all still….. how we act.
» Posted By Meg On 09.16.2015 @ 3:28 pm
Grinning, I sprint down the hall, around the corridor, and smack! Right into a wall. Or what felt like one. As I fall to my certain doom, a hand shoots out and grabs me, helping me from falling. “I am so sorry! Thank-” I look up, “-you.” He’s gorgeous. I mean, drop-dead, scan-bam gorgeous. And I know him. “Thanks Nick! I am so-” He shakes his head laughing. “You’re fine, no harm done! Come on, I’ll walk with you to Chem.
» Posted By Meg On 08.22.2015 @ 5:52 pm
First day of High School was the oddest day for me. It wasn’t the teachers or classes, it was the people. I knew most of them, but they were, unrecognizable. For the most part. Especially the girls, their faces primped and powdered.
Everyone’s faces were painted. They’d all painted pictures on their faces of who they wish they were.
» Posted By Meg On 08.20.2015 @ 5:02 pm
It was under the willow tree which she sat and watched everyday. Between class, during lunch everyday like clockwork at three-fifteen. She’d sit and watch the scene before her. The ducks in the pond. The butterflies, flowers, and lovey-dove couples. The children, and older grandparents. And everyday she smiled as she left, but never partook in the activities of others.
» Posted By Meg On 08.13.2015 @ 5:48 pm
It all felt wrong. I felt isolated, but there was people all around. It was my identity in a way, that felt wrong, like I’d stolen it. Like it wasn’t mine, Like I wasn’t me.
“Hey, how are you?” They’d say, and each time I’d reply:
“Oh, I’m fine, how are you.”
» Posted By Meg On 08.09.2015 @ 5:28 pm
I loved this activity. My thoughts were all over the place with this word from good/happy meanings to ones that were a bit darker. I loved how this made me think and still thinking! Makes me wonder what my one word for this school year should be
» Posted By Meg On 08.04.2015 @ 5:55 pm
not real what I want someone to see about me. what others see as my public face fun and magical magians circu de sole simmering fantasies daydreaming
» Posted By Meg On 08.04.2015 @ 5:53 pm
The past few days had been, eventful. For lack of better term. All the planning and preparation. It was a lot. And she still wasn’t sure this was what she wanted. She would do anything for him. But she still liked the quieter occasion better. It wasn’t until she found the one. The perfect fit. And finally, everything became real. And finally it was something she actually, wanted. Something she kind of needed. They say the dress is sometimes the most important part. The one thing the bride needs to find, on her own. And this was it. This was the dress.
» Posted By Meg On 08.03.2015 @ 7:58 pm
She hung upside down when she thought. When asked, she told people it was fun. At school from the tree limb she could hear the laughing. She saw the pointing. SOme people would try to join her. Talk and laugh with her. She wasn’t being rude, or trying to be anyway. She just liked the quiet others tended to interrupt.
In Junior High and High School, she had to choose a new tree. First day of High School, she found the perfect one. It was tall, and if she went high enough the teachers wouldn’t see her. And couldn’t yell at her.
She hadn’t been paying attention, spaced off. Closed her eyes. When she opened them she was surprised to see someone had joined her. A dark haired boy, from the wrestling team last year. She’d seen him around at the Junior High. She expected him to talk, but he didn’t. And they hung there everyday after. They never talked. In fact, they had no classes together that year. And when they shared classes in Sophomore and Junior year, they never talked. Senior year they had two classes together. But it wasn’t until the last day of school. After school, she went to their tree. He was already up there. And they hung for awhile. And this time, they did talk. Almost as if they’d talked before. Frequently. And as he left, he smiled sadly.
“Thank you, for the new perspective.”
» Posted By Meg On 08.02.2015 @ 3:22 pm
Walking along the side of the tracks, she couldn’t understand why people would throw themselves in front of them. Why he had thrown his body in front of the freight train. And for a split second, as she hears the loud and obnoxious horn, she wonders.
Would she see him, if she stepped forward?
If she took the step, in front of those tracks…
She missed him. She had loved him. She had so many questions…He had left her in a gruesome, horrific way.
If she took the step, would she find him again? Would she be able to ask him the questions, that have been hounding her? Pulsing in her head? Causing her to wake up at night?
The freight train was closer now.
And she took a step. A step that proved she’d made her decision.
And as the train roars over the tracks, she walks the opposite direction. Because she let him go. It was the first step in moving on. And she would never look back.
» Posted By Meg On 06.08.2015 @ 9:34 am
the weather was nice , a summer day with no chance of rain , no clouds or
» Posted By meg On 05.25.2015 @ 4:55 pm
Back To Stats Page
There is a single moment, it can be a word, an action, heck, it could be an expression. It can be anything. But in that moment, is when you differentiate, between giving up-
And knowing when you’ve had enough.
I’d had enough.
I’d had more than enough.
» Posted By Meg On 05.24.2015 @ 6:43 pm