anonymousme
- joined on May 9, 2008
- visits WS from United States
- last seen weeks ago
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I prefer to say "quarter of", even should push come to shove - although I know it isn't proper, it has a benefit that's a topper - a bonus to cheer me when i'm blue, "quarter of" annoys you ; )
On September 11th, 2001, terrible events in America created a schism in the lives of many of us here. We can't help but think in terms of "Before". Many people were brought closer together. Couples on the verge of divorce decided to try again. For me, it only tore away the last of the denial that staying was futile. He would never stop drinking. Exactly one month later, on October 11th, I left my husband with little more than a change of clothes and the diaper bag, and the only thing that really mattered, my three and a half year old daughter. We have a better life now. But me, the me that was before is still there, frozen in time on that eye-wateringly beautiful September day. Forever jogging along the neighborhood streets, blissfully unaware that some 1200 miles away, terror was raining down on the city streets and country fields in the form of smoke and blood and fire and ash. I can still feel the sun on my shoulders, the pain in my legs. The sweat is still glistening on me, trickling down my temples and chest, staining my blue sports bra and Hawaiian print running shorts. I can still hear the rhythmic thud of my sneakers against the pavement, the measured flow of my breath. Oh, and the radio. It wasn't playing music, but I couldn't understand the words that were being spoken. I was too into me. Jogging was the only time in my life that my mind was truly empty of all but what my body was doing. I haven't gone for a run since that day. But I'm still there.
On September 11th, 2001, terrible events in America created a schism in the lives of many of us here. We can't help but think in terms of "Before". Many people were brought closer together. Couples on the verge of divorce decided to try again. For me, it only tore away the last of the denial that staying was futile. He would never stop drinking. Exactly one month later, on October 11th, I left my husband with little more than a change of clothes and the diaper bag, and the only thing that really mattered, my three and a half year old daughter. We have a better life now. But me, the me that was before is still there, frozen in time on that eye-wateringly beautiful September day. Forever jogging along the neighborhood streets, blissfully unaware that some 1200 miles away, terror was raining down on the city streets and country fields in the form of smoke and blood and fire and ash. I can still feel the sun on my shoulders, the pain in my legs. The sweat is still glistening on me, trickling down my temples and chest, staining my blue sports bra and Hawaiian print running shorts. I can still hear the rhythmic thud of my sneakers against the pavement, the measured flow of my breath. Oh, and the radio. It wasn't playing music, but I couldn't understand the words that were being spoken. I was too into me. Jogging was the only time in my life that my mind was truly empty of all but what my body was doing. I haven't gone for a run since that day. But I'm still there.
Quarter of and Quarter til; Which one my love will bring a thrill? Does it matter what we say, or is it all just come what may? It really doesn't matter to me, as long as it not a quarter of three. It sounds so silly when you say that time is a just a fraction of the day. When you're in rome, surely you're not home. Say it like they do; It's a quarter til two.
p.s. just because you're not physically attractive, it doesn't mean you have a lovely personality. and just because you're pretty, it doesn't automatically make you a bitch with no soul.
Your silence speaks volumes, with a decibel level greater than any of my anguished rages. It is a wall that i throw myself against, again and again and again, till i am torn and bleeding and broken, yet still pleading. words are the key, i think, stupidly unable to accept the truth of your reticence.
i'm so stupidly clever
The truth may not always set you free
why is love mentioned so many times in this place? Is it because we are all starved for it or is it because we're greedy and don't see the love in front of our very noses?
I 'm thankful i woke up this morning
Alisa is an undercover angel and agent for absolute Autonomy, absent the aeriel acoutrements. After All, We know it's always about the A's.
p.s. just because you're not physically attractive, it doesn't mean you have a lovely personality. and just because you're pretty, it doesn't automatically make you a bitch with no soul.
Your silence speaks volumes, with a decibel level greater than any of my anguished rages. It is a wall that i throw myself against, again and again and again, till i am torn and bleeding and broken, yet still pleading. words are the key, i think, stupidly unable to accept the truth of your reticence.
i'm so stupidly clever
The truth may not always set you free
why is love mentioned so many times in this place? Is it because we are all starved for it or is it because we're greedy and don't see the love in front of our very noses?
I 'm thankful i woke up this morning
Alisa is an undercover angel and agent for absolute Autonomy, absent the aeriel acoutrements. After All, We know it's always about the A's.
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