Survival. Most people think of surviving as in braving treacherous conditions such as an arctic blizzard, or engulfing wilderness. Surviving is not how most people would describe their day to day lives. However, you were never most people, now were you? Surviving was you getting through another day. Going through times where simply getting out of bed seemed an arduous, pointless task. Going through those moments and deciding to keep going despite the violent thoughts surrounding and harassing you constantly. You survived those days. I hate to bring it up, I know how much you would rather let us dance around that dark time. I don't believe we ever really had a serious conversation about that. I wonder if this would even be happening if we …show more content…
It wasn't pretty. It wasn't beautiful. You are beautiful, I wouldn't let a sight like this tarnish that word and its significance to me in regards to you. It was ugly. Harsh, deep ridges turning your wrists crimson and your face into a twist of agony. Slumped in the bath, you're black hair spilling around you and the clear water tainted with - well you. I couldn't breathe. Sorry, wrong choice of words, I'm sure the lack of breathing was already being handled by you (you would have laughed at that, you always appreciated my dark, sardonic humour) although you were still breathing at the time, slow shallow breaths that shook your too skinny frame. I sprinted out, grabbing my phone off the counter and running back to you, all the while calling for help. If you were to ask me how I was able to react so fast, I wouldn't be able to tell you. Maybe I would say, it was a survival instinct. If you couldn't survive on your own I was making my damned surest to do it for you. I crouched over the bath so I could cradle you, rocking you as if soothing an infant. I choked out the relevant information to the operator, her reassurance that help was on its way not working in the
The air reeked of alcohol, the intoxicated breaths of young people colliding together over drunken slurs to create one distinct scent. She kept her head low as she made her way through the maze made by the seemingly endless crowd. Full of regrets, she was doing all she could to get out of there, the distraction turning out to be nothing more than a few drinks with people who didn't even know when her birthday was. The song finished abruptly, followed by simultaneous cheering. She kept moving, weaving in and out of people with fierce determination until she walked right into him. She murmured a quick apology and went to continue when the familiarity of the figure in front of her hit. She hesitantly looked up, heart dropping into her stomach at the mere sight of him.
Thornton Wilder, a Wisconsin native, is the writer of the Pulitzer Prize winner play Our Town. In Our Town, Wilder tells the story of a town in Grover’s Corners, New Hampshire, and the daily lives of the inhabitants. In the play, the author uses minimal props and scenery as well as including a main character known as the Stage Manager that has the ability to break the fourth wall, allowing him to talk to the audience. This factor of talking to the audience is a major component of making the public a part of the town. Throughout the play, there are many instances in which the Stage Manager uses various cues as well as dialogues to incorporate the audience and develop an intimate relationship to create a true sense of “our town”.
My heart leapt in my throat- I did my best to try and regulate my breathing so I wouldn’t give away my position with massive, choking gulps of air. Closing my eyes, I tried to re-collect blissful memories, ones that were far away from this state of affairs. I couldn’t calm down; this was so bad- what was I going to do? His steps were getting closer; they were getting louder. I panicked, I panicked.
Hey, how are you all doing out there ? Well, me I have just been trying to stay healthy and keep my head high so I can make it back to the only thing I have and that’s you all “my family”. I try not to think about you all too much because when I think about what's going on out there it makes me mad and I am so tired ‘’omg’’. We don't eat that much during war but when we get back to the base we eat pretty good, well actually really good. I notice that a lot of people donate food and medicine and first-aid kits too. I just got an Lee-Enfield rifle and it's a pretty nice gun, it can hold 10 bullets. I just been waiting to use it on, Germany, Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman Empire against the Allied forces of Great Britain, and there are some
TRAUMA By C.I. Lopez "Page the trauma surgeon." I said to Susan, “and call the supervisor, to let her know we're probably getting multiple burn victims, please." As the head trauma nurse in charge of the Emergency Room, at St. Joseph’s General Hospital in Tampa, Florida, I was used to nights like this, especially when the rain was blinding at rush hour, and people were rushing to get home from work on a Friday night. For ten years I had worked the trauma unit, and I had seen it all.
Somebody should of told you I'm on one!!!!! Fuck you die slow you know who you are. We putting bottles down you suckin fucking thinking I'm mad really im glad cause while you SWALLOW you really sad as it hits your chin there goes my grin it should be a sin how much your pain now makes me smile when you had me to where I'd cry when you hurt that was for a while now its bitch get off mine enjoy yours and if you ain't got tears then you hiding behind fear that new man you got is really queer and feel bad for his ass thinking he's the new love of your life smiling and wilding when you behind his back denying him he don't exist in your mind but he's got me cause you letting him hit it from behind bitch I tried. Enjoy your new year as I toast you
The cafeteria had always been the noisiest place in Geochang Middle School. Maybe because students were too busy studying and paying attention in class. Maybe because the 5000 square feet of space was the only region in the facility where they could breathe and let out the sparks that had been dimmed inside of them for so long.
Nothing was heard, only the water droplets that drops from the crack ceiling. Making a small puddle on the ground, having mice roaming around the place.
“Concentrate, Aiden!” He clapped his hands. “Please you really need to focus. This is important. Children have to be careful when they venture into the forest. There’s a pack of wild, voracious wolves with gaping mouths reeling with fangs and forked tongues each as thick as my wrist. They roam the woods, ten feet or more, and then hung in the trees, breathing raggedly tasting your scent, considering how best to devour you. As a matter of fact only, the other day several of them snatched a baby elf out of its sleeping mother’s arms and thrashed the poor little dear to pieces.
My drama paragraph: Your mother's "trying to help" days are coming to an end, and the time is coming to let it go. This is a final attempt to reach you saying everything conceivable down to the last atom of my energy. Being strong-minded (in your head) hasn't allowed your heart and spirit to listen and hear the pleas from your children, Grandpa, sister, and parents!!! If this last "try to help" as your "fairy godmother" doesn't work, your parents' twilight years will be peaceful, but with deep sorrow.
And I've always known that you'd never care, but I'll be honest this is an all time low
I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know it could kill me. One time when I was 8, I was playing with some chapstick. I was putting It on everything when I decided to take a bite out of it. I ended up getting really sick and almost dying.
Throughout the course of my life I have overcome much adversity. I often lie in bed and ponder how I survived such a fatal misfortune. I was two years of age when I lost my mother in a tragic car accident while I held on for the fight of my life. The roads were wet and my mother's car had been sent slewing into oncoming traffic, leaving her pinned between the passenger and driver side door. The life drained from her body almost instantly. My head managed to bust through the window adjacent to me while a fragment of plastic from the car punctured through my skull. The accident left me with broken bones, including a fractured skull, and scars all over my body. I have been told by others how my mother appeared in her open casket as if she had
The horn has already sounded and I’m still running. I can feel my blood pulsing in my ears. The sounds of useless advice feels the air. I continue to run. I come across a cave and ran into it. I gasp in shock and as I walk into a lab filled with mindless people editing videos. A film crew rushes at me and says, “If you were able to be in Divergent, which character would you be?” I shake my head in confusion. I attempt to back up slowly, but they grab me and place me in front of a computer and yell, “Edit!” The slam the headphones on my head and everything becomes a blur.
My life was flashing before my eyes, I was realizing what was happening death was coming. Cold and stillness filled the room while the feeling of death started to overtake my body it was a different feeling but it had to come. My limbs felt heavy and I thought real slow everything was slowing down. Just then something odd happened like nothing I ever thought some sound came into the room an annoying buzzing creature.