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When the doctor walked out, he was fumbling with his stethoscope and looking down at the washed out, worn down tiles on the floor. She was in a very late stage of the disease. He was trying to grasp it, to stay strong, but sank into the blank, cold walls of the hospital instead.
By blahblah URL on 11.02.2010
the stage is a warm and inviting spot. the lights hold me in my place. they watch me iwth that single yellow eye. or is it red? or blue? it makes me smile that i am alone and yet so very much in the company of others. why won’t you hold me close. if all the world’s a stage how long will it take me to get to the other side?
By Kit Kat on 11.02.2010
The stage is where they ran and jumped and hugged and laughed and screamed and cried tears of joy. It was their night. Their day. The torture was finally over. Let’s go Giants.
By T URL on 11.02.2010
walking across the stage. I imagine waiving to the crowd. Then all of a sudden I stop and look down at my feet. I suddenly feel like am alone in the room. No eyes staring, just me. I turn around and wonder if this is really what i want. It’s not.
By Jason on 11.02.2010
As she took to the stage to play her piece for the recital, she had the horrible feeling that everyone knew she was faking it…that she really WASN’T talented on the keyboard. She managed to get through the piece with no memory lapses this time, but she knew by the lackluster applause that her talent must lie elsewhere….or at least that’s what she hoped.
By tdough on 11.02.2010
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.