ten word stories

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It was the good times that killed her the most. 

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Birthday Thoughts.

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My birthday is coming up quick. Two weeks. I can't believe it myself, I mean, I remember teasing you before I started school, asking what you were going to get me. Ha, your answer now is relatively the same as it was then, just a little more mysterious. Truth be told, a part of me just wants to skip it, my birthday, I mean. It has nothing to do with being a year older, I've accepted that fact already, that my youth is slowly slipping away, but instead I admit that I'm afraid my birthday will bring back a stream of not-so-pleasant memories from a year ago. It may seem silly, it probably is silly, but the thought is still there, that 'What If?' Now I admit it's not true, I don't actually believe it, but I also didn't believe in a lot of things a year ago, and I was ultimately surprised. It's not that I don't look forward to the occasion holistically either, it's just that I wish this year won't leave me another year older and more b...
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Fin.

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I'm done with high school. Let me say it again for you: I'm done with high school. It's a weird feeling. Okay, maybe not that weird, but on our last day I don't think that my boyfriend and his friend could have gotten me out of the field house any faster, yet even in the back of my mind I think I thought it was weird. Don't I owe a good-bye to this place? A thanks maybe? Maybe even a few fuck yous? The answer is, I do - - To all of the above, actually. That building has seen a lot of me the past few years: Me unbelievably happy - -like Cloud Nine happy (have you ever wonder what's so special about Nine?); Me unbelievably pissed to the point that I actually felt my body temperature rise, my blood boil; Me lost and battered to the floor; And even me smacking some sense into myself to say Get up off the damn floor, Kozak . I don't think it's sunk in yet - -at least not fully. I realize that I'm done, and I am grateful, but I'm not quite read...
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