writeacrossme

I’ve known how to breathe all my life, at least that’s what I’ve been told. No one taught me no one showed me how I just opened my mouth and breathe in, breathe out. If I never had to learn how to live why does it sometimes feel so goddamn hard to fill my lungs and let go of everything like I’ve been born to do? Why did no one tell me about the earth and how it lives too, about how when I press my ear to the dirt I can hear it wheezing and crying all at once? Someone once told me that, someone once said that the Earth is alive and it inhales children’s footsteps and exhales the trees whispers and sighs the so

My lungs have become glass; my heart stone and my brain is just a puddle of nothing. I’m dropping, dropping, dropping, but I never hit the ground. I don’t even know, is that possible? There has to be an end to everything, or so I’ve thought. I guess I’ve just been wrong a lot lately.  I can feel the random stabs of pain that jolt up my spine and course through my nerves. They cause me to jerk and groan, but my eyes refuse to open. I like the way her hand feels sifting through my hair; the way her arms wrap around me and how she breathes softly in my ear. Her breath is unusually gentle and her grip remarkably tight.

I’ve known how to breathe all my life, at least that’s what I’ve been told. No one taught me no one showed me how I just opened my mouth and breathe in, breathe out. If I never had to learn how to live why does it sometimes feel so goddamn hard to fill my lungs and let go of everything like I’ve been born to do? Why did no one tell me about the earth and how it lives too, about how when I press my ear to the dirt I can hear it wheezing and crying all at once? Someone once told me that, someone once said that the Earth is alive and it inhales children’s footsteps and exhales the trees whispers and sighs the so

And I walked out the door. I walked straight out through the front yard, pulling a bag over my shoulder as Anna ran behind me, screaming frantically, "No! Come back! Kota! No! You can't leave, please!"  I didn't say anything, even. I ignored her, pulled out my car keys, opening my truck's hard beaten doors when she pulled down my arm ferociously, yanking me back. "Oh no you don't! I invested my whole life into you!" And then I told her what I had wanted to tell her for a long, long, time. I told her I mistakenly gave my life up for hers. I told her I didn't love her anymore. I told her that she was obsessive, clingy, and crazy. I told her it

"Mom," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "It was nothing." My mother placed her hands on her hips, glaring at me. "Aloysius Zachariah Smith, you listen to me right now. What you did was unacceptable." I leaned on the table in exhaustion, closing my eyes and sighing. "What are you going to do?" I asked sarcastically. I opened my eyes, gazing up at her with a smirk. "What are you going to do? Are you going to do; send me away? Are you going to take away my cellphone? Make me get a job? Or are you going to ban me from using my car? What are you going to do?" I could see hesitation clearly in her grey eyes, trying to make a decision. She swallow

A young woman named Casey loved making art, and practiced Sketching all day long to become the very best in all her town. But one day, she was completely stumped. She looked around her room, full of art pieces featuring mystical Books, sci-fi landscapes of a futuristic New York, and a portrait of Josh Hutcherson that looked so real, you could start a conversation with it. But nothing inspired her. Had she really created everything there was to create? Depressed, she looked out her window, and made a wish on a nearby Chocolate for inspiration to return to her. The next morning, she sprung out of bed, and used her skill in Sketching to create t

I feel stupid, I really feel stupid and I hope they don't find out. What were you thinking, Hunter? I should've led them another way, I should've lied or something. Yes, that's what I should've done, but I didn't and now we're in my house, my old, ginormous, and spine-chilling house. The thing's a mansion and Jaxith can feel demons in here. I wish he wasn't blind, because then he wouldn't be able to sense such things. And I just have a feeling those demons are going to kill one of us this time. Oh Lord, I've really done it now. The tip of my black leather boot kicks a little journal in my room, my nose wrinkles in disgust, and I turn awa