Comments Posted By oxy
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When I got behind the wheel for the first time my heart thundered madly. I gulped and stared at my father, voice wavering as I noted, “I’m pretty nervous right now.” He just nodded and waved me forward, telling me to go as slow as I needed to. Slow, indeed. My very first time around the block, I went no faster than the car would roll with my foot off the brakes. Yet, even though I was crawling along at a speed which barely registered on the speedometer, I couldn’t see anything but a narrow tunnel in front of me. I was so nervous, I didn’t even stop at the stop sign; I didn’t even see it. Good thing no one was around.
» Posted By oxy On 08.09.2011 @ 8:42 pm
The blank canvas of the page stared me in my face. A new beginning, ready to receive the words in my head and string together a story that has been a long time coming. I’ve filled the canvas thus far with Nine thousand, two hundred, and sixty four words. Only 40,736 to go.
» Posted By oxy On 08.07.2011 @ 2:25 pm
I need a new bulb– this one is broken. I slump over my keyboard and try to think of five hundred more words to hack out into my story, all the while feeling like everything is completely devoid of anything interesting. I need a new idea bulb, because mine is dead.
» Posted By oxy On 08.07.2011 @ 12:25 am
Things had reached a boiling point. That day had been in planning for a long time coming, but under the edge were tensions that were bound to explode at any time. It’s only a shame it had to happen on that day. Or perhaps it was because it was that day– one which was supposed to be upbeat and full of cheer– that brought things to where they were. How could we be so cheerful when it seemed like everything was only getting worse?
» Posted By oxy On 08.02.2011 @ 3:10 pm
The root of the problem is me, I know it is. It’s my depression, it’s my dependency on these escape mechanisms. It’s my diet, it’s my lack of exercise, it’s my total lack of excitement for anything ever– except in rare circumstances where I actually feel powerful emotions rushing through my chest. It isn’t anyone else, it’s me. Any girl would be lucky to have what I have- someone who loves as deeply as he does, someone to want me as much as he wants me. And all I’m doing it is throwing it away, like everything else in my life. I know what I do, but I do it all the same.
» Posted By oxy On 08.01.2011 @ 11:44 am
She stretched her ivory wings out beyond her shoulders, rubbing her hands together and gazing softly upon the town nestled in the heart of the valley. They wouldn’t find her up here– she would make sure of that. She was through being the savior, for she was nothing but a person who could fly.
» Posted By oxy On 07.31.2011 @ 6:41 pm
One step forward, five steps back. A step here, another step there. Can’t I just walk from Point A to Point B without getting entangled in this waltz that is forever spinning me here and there, whirling me closer before taking me away just as quickly? All I want in life is to support myself and be happy, but this dance won’t let that happen.
» Posted By oxy On 07.30.2011 @ 11:14 am
Where, oh where are you, my muse? People often speak of their muses as if they are a real person. Typically, Muse is a she. Muse is a she who teases their minds, tickles their creativity, but eludes them when they look to her for inspiration the most. She eludes me all the time.
» Posted By oxy On 07.30.2011 @ 6:05 am
I amuse myself when I stare in the mirror and pull funny faces. Sometimes I strike a glorious pose that pulls the cloth against the curve of my body just right, and a smile curls on my lips. I stand in front of the mirror for ten, twenty minutes, gesturing wildly and contorting my expression this way and that.
» Posted By oxy On 07.28.2011 @ 4:53 pm
The band marched proudly through the halls of our school, sending the sound of their drums thundering violently around the school. I always ducked down a different path when I heard them coming; it was simply too loud for me to take.
» Posted By oxy On 07.27.2011 @ 11:12 am
I miss Austin storms. I used to lay in bed, listening to forces so strong I was almost certain I might die that night. I had never lived anywhere like that before, and even though they were terrifying- humbling- I will always mourn having to leave that behind. We get “storms”, which have maybe two rattles at best, but nothing like Austin. I miss it.
» Posted By oxy On 07.26.2011 @ 11:03 am
When you’re ill, you go to the doctor. When your mind is ill, you go to the therapist. What happens when your relationship is ill, and it’s to the point where everything is a broken cycle? When both people discourage each other and they don’t know how to stop it?
» Posted By oxy On 07.24.2011 @ 12:11 pm
Her skin clung to her skeleton. So frail, and not just in the body. Her mind- her mind was frail, too. She frowned at her mirror, perpetually unhappy with what meat did stand in the way between her milky skin and ivory bones. It wasn’t good enough; it never would be.
» Posted By oxy On 07.23.2011 @ 12:19 pm
I don’t have any trophies. My dad used to keep his bowling trophies in the bookcase, where I would study them and run my fingers all over the smooth metal. I’m not really a competitor, however, so the most I have is ribbons from various school events where everyone walked away with a prize. They don’t mean anything. It would be nice to have a trophy of my own for something, noting my greatness.
» Posted By oxy On 07.18.2011 @ 5:38 pm
My mom smokes cigarettes. My dad used to smoke. After his heart attack, he quit, just like that. Just said one day, “I’m not going to smoke anymore,” and hasn’t had one for ten years and going. My mom? Well, she might have lung cancer. She’s still puffing away, every cigarette another future broken promise to be “the last”. But it’s not my life, it’s hers. I wish she would quit, but I can’t make her.
» Posted By oxy On 07.16.2011 @ 9:08 pm
What’s the proper etiquette when you see a friend that’s too far to talk to, but close enough to look in the eye? Do you look at the ground, or keep staring at them? Look at them on and off? It’s extremely awkward, but a common awkwardness shared by most people I’m sure.
» Posted By oxy On 07.13.2011 @ 11:30 am
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Chores were the bane of my existence, the one thing that would put me to sleep right away. Now? I love them. A clean house, with clean things in it, means a clean mind. I like to relax, meditate, and think about how nice it is to have clean things.
» Posted By oxy On 07.08.2011 @ 3:29 pm