Wakin Monologue

I know it's been a while and I’ve been fine, up until now, because something came up. Marcus died. It happened on O'connell street in the capital of dublin. I was there when it happened. The enemy had me pinned down, but that didn’t stop me from winning. I got curious to as of who he was, seeing as of how good he was, but that's when I realised my mistake. When I checked out who it was, I discovered that it was Marcus. I didn't think about who was shooting at me from the distance, only the fact that he was. He died at my hands, and I never even thought it would be him, the enemy sniper, it had never crossed my mind! But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead. He’s dead, because of my decision. I felt a wave of nauseous, and all these emotions,

Well, here I am. I’m at Yokeman Regional Medical Center. Thanks to the skull fracture and the sprain on my leg, I’ll be here for a bit. They gave me just the right amount of pain medication so it’s just a numbing feeling. I’m expected to do some physical therapy for a bit after the release me. I feel fine, relieved actually that this is all over. It’s been four days since that horrible night where my old science teacher tried to kill me. Speaking of which, I had a nice talk with my mom about her past this morning, and how it almost got me killed. Now, she refuses to leave my side. Randy is in jail, not the local jail, he got transported to the big house in Phoenix. The rotting corpses, and the bodies from the old church, only one of them died, but it was all overdose. Randy was growing the mushrooms in the church and giving them out to the people who were willing enough to join his little cult. He created that cult in memory of Robin, not the one he killed, but the one he remembered from High School. You

I reach over to hit the snooze button on my alarm clock, for what feels like the 100th time tonight, however I’m completely awake now and realize it wasn’t the alarm, it’s my phone. My heart is pounding so hard, because I know it must an emergency, for someone to call me this late. I dialed the number back with my hands trembling, finally I hear this little muffled voice that I didn’t recognize at first then I realize its Jamie. She said, “Please come and get me, I need help” I asked her where she was but she couldn’t even tell me, then the phone went silent.

I peeped my head out out from the cloth like a curious meerkat, then scooted out from under the table. I grinned inward and glanced at my laced up boots. If I was in heels I would not have been able to do that.

Woah, woah, woah. We got a bitch ass sprog here thinking dissing someone's comment is really going to get us somewhere. You're just a little thirteen-year-old furfag, grow the fuck up already. Anyways, I was just stating the fact that just because other people are allergic to something shouldn't be the reason why something should be illegal same for folks who have asthma. Also the thing on destroying your lungs/cancer there way more other things that cause cancer, but you don't see the government trying to stop it, know do you? All the shit they put in our food cause cancer, but you don't see tons of commercials talking about how we should grow our own food or to eat better. I mean people should have the right to smoke a cigarette if they want

“This is where the knowledge gets dicey. My family and clan are Selkie’s and now you’re entrusted to keep our secret.”

Lying on the uncomfortable, terrible, backstabbing prison mattress, I am feeling exhausted. I hadn’t slept for days after that traumatising incident. The fear and pain I am feeling deep inside me is unbearable and seems to become more and more horrifying as time goes past. As my cracked lips tremble, Pearl-shaped tears slowly drip out of my puffed-up eyes and down my frail face, as I remember that unforgettable moment that happened in a split second. I stare at the damp, dirty ceiling with my heart completely shattered, trying to think of reasons why I should live. The more I think about the accident, the more distressed I feel.

“Tomorrow you are going to present your sculpture to the world! How do you feel right now?” Said the news lady. “ It’s nerve racking to think that the whole world is going to be counting on ME to make the sculpture of the year!” Replied Joel Waul. “So,is it complete?” “ To be honest, no.” Said Waul. “ Well, we’ll come by next week to check in next week to see how it’s coming! Bye!”

The day started just like any day at FOB (Forward Operating Base) Sharana, in Afghanistan. I woke up at 0630 grabbed my uniform, shower hygiene, and walked to the shower trailers, so I could go to duty at 0900. Walking back from the showers I began to think about my family. I wish they understood how much I love them. Mommy is not leaving them, but doing this for them. Tears began to form in my eyes. I can do this, I will just call them later to tell them how much I love them, and that mommy misses them. As I was walking back I ran into Chief Warrant Officer 2 Tutt. CW2 Tutt was in the same company that I was in. He was a nice, strong, caring leader. He was a preacher back at our home station. As he approached me, I noticed he was crying. I’ve never seen him cry before. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “It’s Delgado” he said while beginning to cry harder. “He…he…shot himself!” I could barely make out his last words because he was so emotional. He shot himself? There’s no way, I just talked to him last night! “When did you find this out chief?” “It happened right now! I heard a gunshot and ran to see what was happening…and there he was…I couldn’t save him!” I noticed CW2 Tutt looking down at his hands. He still had blood on them.

His eyes shone as if caught in the beam of a headlight. The noise wasn’t him. He was as quiet as a field mouse with asthma and a broken leg.

    The air stung the Virtuoso's skin, but the night was perfect for his opening act. He began his preparation with an artist's delight and touch. Placing bombs designed as flowers and preparing his "paint brush". The cool touch of steel left his hand as he pocketed the pistol and began to move. "Tonight will be a night of beauty and splendor" he quietly mused to himself as he prepared to move. He sat waiting in anticipation for the puppets to dance. Someone stepped on a bomb and the play had begun.

I am here to tell you a story. A story to torture your thoughts and make you think twice above all. A story of woe. A story about the great Edgar Allan Poe and how I stuck by his side throughout the endless circles of despair. It’s quite unthinkable and unimaginable to believe that we cats are the exactly same as humans consciously. I’m known as an outsider. I’m one of the misunderstood creatures mistakenly created in the eyes of everyone. Edgar was also misunderstood and wanted nothing more than for someone to understand him. I’ve been following Allan all over for as long as I can remember. In the early years of the 1800’s in Boston Edgars mother had died from tuberculosis by the time he reached three. Though for Edgar’s father had left the family early in his life. The remaining few of his family was picked apart and greeted into different homes. They were torn away from the only few people they knew. Poe and me were

To be, or not to be: that is the question suicidal thoughts from all the devastating things in life not having any hope for the future having a fixation on what will happen if dying still isn’t the answer to the problems that life brings to you.Feeling alone,worthless,socially isolated moods changing from sad to mad I must be cruel,only to be kind to myself that is what holds me back nostalgic feeling of happy days from better days.Not being a victim of bullying,sexual abuse or uncertainty of my sexual orientation. Hanging around people that I think will make me have a brighter day and do as adversaries do in law strive mightily,but eat and drink as friends loose ends with people that I stop talking to them wondering why and thereby hangs a tale.

so i sit up crying all night and i don't want to live through this shit i thought i found peace and my life but now it just crumbled, I've fallen and don't want to get up again please let this be the end, death is my friend and life is my leash, I'm always bound like a parasite it always sticks around and dehydrates me, I'm losing my blood to the drain I think like this and i can't just shut off my brain and I'm scared now, scared that ill just fade away someone please let me know I'm still here, just say my name tell me my fucking name, i don't know myself and I'm lost and

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about my family. It’s so hard to live on my own because I wasn’t leaving this town until I make it out and prove to everyone that you can do anything. I have my many of struggles like the day after the funeral. I had to go to court and talk about all this and discuss living arrangements. As soon as they called a recess I bolted out of the Court House and ran back to my house to find somewhere to hide. I thought my life was spiraling out of control. I got so upset I broke everything in the house and went on a angry rampage. I took my