Last SOL

It's my last SOL so it better be good. 

It's my last SOL and I think it should.

So far I have come with these slices of life.

Oh, what a wild life.

but here I go:

When 2 people are in a narrow hallway and they both want to go around but they step to the same side each time.

The rainbow twirls out the open window as my thoughts slip away and all I think is One... Two... Three...

the squeaking of breaks, little red lights

I'm sitting on the floor and fall over, exasperated. This is hopeless! 

Your fiction, why does every twist and turn wrench my heart out. 

Cause your a sky, cause your a sky full of stars, I'm gonna give you my heart

But then I land and sit under a tree. My head on a shoulder, Finally.

It should be happy, the first rehearsal but all I feel is stress. 

My hair whips in the wind. My throat burns from running. First Practice

Mix worry, fear, and terror in large metal bowl. Make sure you whisk very fast, as stress accumulates quickly.

That feeling when you make the whole class laugh

Wind pushes my hair back and my shirt flits around my body. Tears form in my eyes from wind pushing against them and my legs ache. 

I feel like I'm on top of the world, A feeling I almost never get

Pi(e) is a wonderful thing

I frantically run around backstage, for the first time.

Watching Netflix and writing this

The blue lights backstage hit my face as I stand with the cast and crew. Everyone is shifting weight between their feet, and smiling at each other

Trying to answer weird questions. Trying not to disappoint anyone. Trying not to be scared

My mom: please tell me you didn't write about my fat feet, you really have no respect for my dignity

Monday is tomorrow and that means school, school is tomorrow and that means work.

0.000575342 Centuries

Does god think all my mistakes are good for me? Why don't they ever stop me? They should stop me from making mistakes. I guess some, sure. But others are things that if god or angels existed they would have stopped me from doing. So, no, I dont believe.

Flakes of snow land on my eyelashes and make it hard to see,

footsteps echo in empty driveways 

The world looks so different, but its all inside a little cardboard box. 

 My and my friend squealed when the lights went down, finally able to see it. 

Blocks and pinching fingers, sitting at my dining room table, 

Music floods through me, pouring into me. It activates every little corner of my brain. It brings up memories, and emotions as it floods into me.

Oh please make up your mind, dear weather. Please just decide.

Bibble - to drink often; to eat and/or drink noisily

That was 31 days of my life.

31 days where I wrote something, 

anything, 

every

single

day.

31 days of slicing.

Good job to whoever did it all!