44. Hold My HandThe melodious music filled the air
as each and every head turned to the back.
Her white gown brushed over the aroma
of ruby red rose petals and whispers
on summer breezes.
I watched strands of hair rise playfully
from her shoulders as her gaze
My heart was
thumping, thumping, thumping
with the fall of every step.
The butterflies were
fluttering, flying, floating
as I took a deep breath.
The pastor stood before us,
Do you take her to have and to hold?
She glanced before I squeezed her hand,
the color rose to highlight her cheeks
and her eyes shone even brighter,
For better or for worse,
until death do you part?
The air around me burns my lungs [burns my lungs and it's eating me up little by little].
The walls are closing in all around me. I feel tight, compact and I can't move. Thud; the sound my flesh and bones make as I thrash against the wall. I blindly scratch at the dry wall while bits of dust gather under my bleeding nails, desperate to make my escape by any means possible. My chapped lips release muffled screams as the darkness inches closer. I scrape up the remnants of my consciousness in order to stay awake, to live. Alas, my fear consumes me as I collapse into silence.
L'ecureuilI remember in eighth grade you got a little too curious when five girls sat giggling on a park bench. You scurried around in the grass not sure what to do, when out of no where you were in a race for your life. At least that's what I would imagine you'd be feeling [I know that's what I'd be feeling if our positions were switched]. A girl was rushing at you with a spoonful of moose tracks ice cream. What only made us laugh harder I'm sure put you into a panic.
Him and I were laying underneath trees. It was on our lunch break, and we managed to escape everyone else. Everyone else but you. I spotted you above as you glared at me down below. We literally had a staring contest with twenty feet between us. You ruined that moment, Mr. Squirrel.
The other day, in fact, you threw an acorn top at my neck. Why? I really don't know. I can't even begin to fathom why in the world you'd choose me as your target. It took me by complete surprise, so if that was your intent, congratula
Me, Myself, and IJessica,
You never give yourself enough credit. Really. You always see yourself in a different light and wonder why some people actually put up with you.
Your hair isn't that bad. I know you look at it and think there isn't much to be done with that never-quite-straight hair, but it really is pretty when the sun hits it. So what if it isn't always perfectly in place? That makes you different, right? And that reddish hue in it makes someone jealous somewhere.
Your eyes? Darling, they're gorgeous. They really are, but you've learned to love them, haven't you? They are just different. No, they're not just brown. They're pools of liquid chocolate. Splashes of jade appear in them in the sun and when you're angry. I've seen it.
You always felt out of place, you know. You had friends, you had best friends, but when it came to society, you just don't fit in. Maybe it's the way you think; you always seem a bit old-fashioned, but you know what? I think
You once called me your JacobWe grew up together.
We played at the fence, built forts, and fought off the ants who threatened our security. We laughed and ran around, and for once I was one of the boys; it was something I wanted since I was the only girl in the neighborhood. I wanted to be accepted by everyone, and you did that.
In middle school, while everyone made fun of me, you were someone who was there. You said hi to me when I passed by, and you made me feel like an actual person. I had always thought you were an attractive person, and by the time 7th grade hit, I followed you around like a little puppy. Every day I wished I had the guts to tell you how I felt, but I never could. I knew you didn't feel the same. Instead I wrote about how I kept falling for you.
High school was no different, although it was at the same time. You were always there in the back of my mind, but I had other things happening now. I was no longer a hormonal teenager, but someone who was figuring out what to do with my life. We were
English isn't just for losersMrs. Warriner,
While I can't say you have completely impacted my life, you have definitely helped me out. You have given me two years of careful instruction and guidelines. You let me be fairly free in my work, but you always kept a firm hand and put me back in place when need be. You knew how hard I could be pushed, and you continued to do so until I succeeded.
It was in your class I had to correct grammatical errors, concentrating on the white board as I quickly scrawled each punctuation. It was in your class I wrote essays every other week, hoping this week's would meet your standards; if not you'd send it back my way for a rewrite.
You helped prepare me for college the last two years. Thanks Mrs. Warriner.
Italian StallionTo you, Mr. Olive Garden Man,
You made my first experience at this chain of restaurants a memorable one. Not only were you a pleasant waiter who was constantly checking up on us, but you also cared about our experience. It was amazing. It's hard to find people who are that dedicated to their job, dedicated enough to put up a kind front even when faced with the most horrible people. I admired that. I may not ever see you again, but I hope the way you treat people affects others as it has me. It really made me think and it brightened up my day.
Because of you, I look forward to this experience soon.