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Do you ever do something you wish you could take back immediately? Something you knew you shouldn’t have said or done in the heat of the moment? This wasn’t one of those times. I couldn’t bring myself to stop stabbing him, I had more frustration to let out than I had grasped. The walls being painted with the end of his life wasn’t enough for me, I had to see it for myself. I had to see his eyes lose its life, I had to know that it would all be over, and I would never again feel those hands around my neck. I would never again feel them brush the hair out of my face to see his beautiful smile, never again feel his embrace or hold his hand. I would never have to put make up on my bruises and fake a smile, I would never again have to feel his hand on the front of my throat wondering if this will be it. If you had asked me six years ago what I imaged my life to be, murdering my high school sweetheart turned husband would be the last thing I thought would happen. Ella will surely be disappointed I thought. Disappointed to never see her father again and disappointed to know it was her mother’s fault. …show more content…
I’ve been described by most as fun, adventurous, trusting, and naïve. For so long I was sure every person had good in them even if they always didn’t show it. Jade was my best friend she was short and spunky with pink and blonde hair and refused to take shit from anyone. Jade and I met in third grade and became inseparable. Like most teenage girls we did everything together, all the same classes, shopping, eating, spending weeks at the others houses. Being sixteen and having great friends, amazing grades, and the most genuinely beautiful personality, I was on her way to having an incredible
mDaisy becomes despondent and wishes that her daughter will not be so wise as so suffer the way she does.
Oh, how one as mighty as me be bewildered by a simple-minded beast. I am Gaston the best looking, strongest, and easily admired man in the whole town. My love Belle who is a little out of her mind if she thinks she could love a beast like him. I will show them. I force my whole enormous body at the beast making him slide off the edge of his balcony. As his large paw-like hands slip he catches himself by scrapping the shingles of the dark and gloomy castle. Weak. his claw grasps my shirt and my heart trembles. No, it can't be. Him a beast. For I am gaston the bravest of them all. But if belle could love him then. What does that make me? For who could ever love a hideous beast like me.
Nolan narrowed his eyes at me, ready to retort but suddenly he shut his yap staring past me. I glanced over my shoulder and spotted our principal, Kay Pal, and his daughter, Janine. Next to her was a tall guy with black hair and dark blue eyes. I recognized him as Kayden Adams, Janine's boyfriend, according to Instascam--I mean Instagram.
I really hate that it had to come to this but i'm tired of being treated different and like an inconvenience. I've tried to talk to you and nothing has changed. Ive layed in my bed for the past 4 months crying to myself or Marcus because I had no one else to talk to. I felt like the only person i'm suppose to be able to talk to didn’t care whether I was alive or not. You hated on Marcus so much but he was the only one who stayed up with me while i cried. This seems dramatic but I really hated being at home. You really yelled at me all the time and half of the time i wasn’t doing anything. I was depressed most of the time which is why I slept all the time. To be honest I don't know if this will even bother you at all. But at least it will be easier and one less person to buy for.
Prologue Heat makes its way across my skin, the UV rays cascading across my face. Small beads of sweat fall down my face, as the luminous sun beats down on me. Thoughts run through my brain and I can see the sun through my closed eyes. The faint sounds of “Mambo Italiano” fill my ears as my mamma sings away in the kitchen beside me. The light breeze hits me and I let out a small smile as my mother lets out a small “Shit” as she drops something on the floor.
What hurts the most, she thinks, is the fact that she would never be able to share any of this with her father because he would be the only one to understand how it would have made her mother
"Wanna bet on it?" (Y/N) looked up at the 5'10 black haired 3rd year , sure you were just slightly shorter than him.. but that didn't matter she wanted to beat him ,she wanted to make him feel lost to her. "
“I’m sorry darling, I hate to break it to you, but you can’t pass the class without submitting to me” “Sir, I beg you please” my voice trembled with nervousness, “please don’t put me in this situation, please, I just want to graduate as soon as possible.” “Fine, I’ll let you off the hook, but be prepared to retake the class several times.” “I just don’t comprehend why you chose me” “WHY ME”, I repeat with agony. “Oh, stop asking foolish questions,” he said irritably. “Why the hell would a guy go after a lady if he didn’t find her attractive as hell.
Four boys stood above me on a pile of garbage. Their words, "Bota, bota, matava" — "chubby", "fatty" suffocated me: A familiar sensation of frustration and hurt gripped me. Looking for defense I only saw a cinderblock at my feet, impossible for my eight year old body to heave, so, I screamed in English: "You are just jealous that you are poor and I am American!"
I can still remember the first time I met you, that handsome smile and beautiful eyes I just wanted to fall deep into. There was something about you that was so mesmerizing, deep, and wild. You were like a puzzle that I wanted to figure out. Little did I know that I was going to be lucky enough to call you mine someday. Since the day you entered my life it has never been the same and neither have I.
Throughout my life, escape has come in my different forms. Less so in the form of a place, but rather in a mindset and activity that I found wholly my own, without care for the other people that shared my space who often did not view the activity in the same freeing way that I did. Though today, escape does hold somewhat more a literal place in my life, any prosimian arch I can find my way under, at a young age escape existed wholly as a concept that was only accessible to me through performance and practice. As a child, from the tender young age of three, performing was, and remains to this day, a large part of my life.
As I pace around the room like a toddler just waiting for reply. My nerves on edge just wondering if my mom found out I literally would be dead. There would actually be blood spewing out of my body somewhere and not anywhere pleasant. Which makes me re-think my decision. Beeeep beeeep, I get sidetracked from a high pitched screech from my fone and it says only a half hour left…
so she was always going to be extra special but from that point on I have had an amazing journey and enjoyed countless moments from childhood, teenager, adolescent
She realizes the very thing that she was withholding from him could have been taken away from the both of them. From that moment on I have always spent time with both my parents through tragedy my mother gave me dad a Second Chance.
When discussing the poetic form of dramatic monologue it is rare that it is not associated with and its usage attributed to the poet Robert Browning. Robert Browning has been considered the master of the dramatic monologue. Although some critics are skeptical of his invention of the form, for dramatic monologue is evidenced in poetry preceding Browning, it is believed that his extensive and varied use of the dramatic monologue has significantly contributed to the form and has had an enormous impact on modern poetry. "The dramatic monologues of Robert Browning represent the most significant use of the form in postromantic poetry" (Preminger and Brogan 799). The dramatic monologue as we understand it today "is a lyric poem in which the speaker addresses a silent listener, revealing himself in the context of a dramatic situation" (Murfin 97). "The character is speaking to an identifiable but silent listener at a dramatic moment in the speaker's life. The circumstances surrounding the conversation, one side which we "hear" as the dramatic monologue, are made by clear implication, and an insight into the character of the speaker may result" (Holman and Harmon 152).