It wouldn’t be so hard if I knew who or what I was. I wouldn’t feel so….empty. Perhaps I could even feel joy. But that shall never be. At least‚ not as I am now. My eyebrow twitched at the cliché scene before me. Not from anger but the sheer annoyance of its stupidity. Dantalion‚ my dear friend‚ had once again lost his head. It isn’t the most appealing sight to see a headless body tripping over its own feet trying to get around‚ but I suppose by now I should be used to it. “You idiot where did you
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In Act 3 of Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis”‚ Grette convincingly proposes to her parents that they need to get rid of the insect immediately for she can no longer tolerate the “endless torment at home”‚ and argues the insect itself is not Gregor because if it were‚ it would have voluntarily left long ago to spare the family from any more pain. “How can my so-called “family” argue over whether or not it’s me inside this insect’s body? The silence and sorrow they are looking at me with is hypocritical
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And after a thoughtful silence‚ I said to her‚ “Why‚ you must be tired‚ carrying all those clouds on your back!” Truthfully‚ it was a strange sight; the billowing mass of something floating above her. She hadn’t seemed to have heard me‚ so I spoke again. Music has long since been an integral part of my life. Of course‚ while it can be a cherished companion‚ it can also be a hated foe in times of frustration. But it has always been there for me: the feeling of the cello’s strings vibrating as I
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Turn the lights out. His hands roamed roughly like stone scrubbing the grub off of my mucky pigmentation every time he sight blemished spots poisoning the fineness of my aesthetic existence. Sigh. It felt great when his fingers strummed the peaks of my chest‚ hardening the mounts with his sundrenched touch‚ sending me vibrations of intensified excitement every time he stops himself from teasing the sanity away from my lucid mind. His possessive lips rolled like fire across my neck‚ down to the rise
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Him leaving was like the last note of a symphony- you knew it was ending‚ but you hoped for an encore. I flashed back to where I was earlier that evening‚ and how I longed to be there again. I remember that I was sitting in my dorm room. Dreading the homework that sat on my desk. I could feel it staring me in the face. I heard it calling my name‚ breathing down my neck to the point where I was so uncomfortable I jumped out of my chair and stormed out of the room. Slamming the door as I left‚ I grumbled
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A Change of Heart I’m hopeless. I’m completely and utterly hopeless. I have nothing to look forward to at a school. At least on the farm I had friends and a family. I had a life… largely consisting of stealing from tourists that visit the vineyard. I need to find a way to turn this car around. That’s it! I’ll tell dad that I don’t want to go. He’ll respect my decision. But if he gets mad… shoot‚ last time he pulled out the belt. No‚ I better think of a slightly less painful idea. I can make up an
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Step by wicked step‚ my boots sank further and further into the thick‚ red-tinged land as if the devil himself were dragging my body straight into the depths of hell. The rhythmic squelching stabbed through my rubber soles‚ radiating pain throughout my soul as it seared everything in its path. Squelch‚ squelch‚ squish. My tempo was interrupted by those cursed boots refusing to budge from the stubborn terrain. As if taunting me‚ the earth unhooked my feet from the damned soil and I found myself catapulted
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Three days‚ six hours and twenty-two minutes have passed. White walls seem to drag and crawl their way around me in padded squares. Shadows flickered on the walls moving waveringly around me. The room remains immersed in darkness‚ (drowning) but I can still hear the screaming man. He has been here for six days‚ four hours and fifteen minutes and doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. I don’t know his name‚ nor do I know why the shrinks let him in here with me‚ but all he does is sit there and
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All I see is the glaring‚ white lights as I am walking out on stage. I look down and see the black stage floor. There is a black and metallic silver mic center stage sitting in front of I can hear people yelling out and screaming. I can now see the people’s faces ‚but they don’t seem ecstatic. They look like they are disappointed. Disappointed in what? Have I played yet? Have I done anything yet? Everything becomes a blur as I pick up my guitar and start to play. The people start to boo they want
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The indirect interior monologue we get next is essential. There is something seriously affecting Henry— his faith is being tested— and what he once found comforting is now not. He is worried and this worry is mentioned twice in one paragraph. Henry also admits his sadness. Now compare this segment to the exchange between him and his wife. He does not tell her of this sadness‚ his worry or his confusion. He clearly thinks about her own lack of faith‚ but does not ask her about that either. Instead
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