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225Rapidamente las ideas brotaron de su boca cual olas de mar, sin direccion alguna, golpeandose entre si, lentamente poco a poco se movian unas hacia otras , sin parar un instante y sin notarlo se habian mezclado hasta ser una sola pieza, una gran pieza de estupideces, ideas, sentimientos que no valia la pena enteder, quizá fuese necesario hacerlo, sin embargo, no tenia deseo alguno por hacerlo, sin saber que  podría ser, sin importar en lo mas minimo.

Las ondas golpeaban en el interior del cubo, estruendo, ruido, sin calma alguna, el deseo por no sentir aquella vibración, por no querer sentir nada.

Tan dificil llega a ser el respirar como el
Life's A Card Game
      Life's a card game. At the start of the game, someone's holding the cards for you. The person holding the cards thinks you can't hold them yourself. Slowly, the holder hands them to you one-by-one. But these aren't your everyday paper cards; these weigh about half a pound each. The more you get, the heavier it is. To get rid of them, you have to play them.
     There are two ways you can play them. One way is to play them responsibly and put them on your stack. The other way is to hide them under your seat, which is going to make those cads hurt you later on. The cards you played right you don't have to worry about, although you can p
16. Obsession"Kthxbai cu l8r 2nite"

I stared at the text message on my screen much longer than it took to read it several times. Concentrating on a single pixel, I was trying to keep my breathing under control so I didn't start raging. Voices of past councilors ran through my head and I followed their directions, counting slowly to ten in my head. I had spent years in therapy to try and put a damper on my obsession with standard English. I couldn't stand the sight of the incorrect spelling of Katie's text and the worst part was that she knew it better than most.

"It's not worth the energy," I said to myself as I pulled my jacket on. It was cold in the a
Remembrance
      I always was picked on for many things. My skin color, my clothes, my hair. My friends.
     In school, I only had about one friend. His name was Chester. I barely knew him when he disappeared, but before that we were great friends. He had my back, and I had his.

• • • • •

     I walked to middle school every day, trying so desperately before I left to convince my parents I was sick or something. They never fell for it unless I WAS sick. I never wanted to go because the other students teased me because I was small, always wore shirts that were black and red striped and a red scarf that looked like the ends w
There was a young man, and he     There was a young man, and he was very lonely in the world.

   He was an artist, and he drew pictures of empty buildings and destroyed skylines. He sketched outlines of graveyards, and visited old, blasted houses that had yet to be restored after burning. He knew his subject well, and his subject was the end.

   He lived in a small apartment in a large apartment building, and the lights didn't always work and the ceiling leaked and there was no elevator even though he lived on the very highest floor, the 11th, but it was inexpensive, and he liked knowing there were many people crammed in closely around him, even though he rarely spoke
Ice Cream     The sun shone gently down over the lawn, but Timothy knew he would need energy more than today's morning sunlight. You see, this day was not like any other day. This day was a Wednesday. Wednesday might not mean too much to too many people, but for the children on this block, Wednesday was the greatest day of all. At one twenty-two every Wednesday, the ice-cream cart wheeled its way down 34th Street. The kids of 34th Street would hear a familiar jingle and dash as quick as they could out the door with quarters in their hands and smiles on their faces.

    So why is it that Timothy hated Wednesdays so badly? It's not that he didn't have
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I was looking through a farm-animal coloring book. I had already sifted through my space themed book and my sister's "textbook" – probably the most boring yet. I rolled on to my back and held the crayon in the air. I ran it though the sky, pretending it was a space ship, making a whooshing noise with m
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