achildishrabbit

First day, high as a kite. Walked out, had my first fight. Have to pull it together, I ain't paying, They'll stop supporting me if I keep failing. Got a lecture, forgot my stuff. Before class, had a bit of puff. Professor's clocked, he's looking at me Kicked out, in trouble - Whoopsie! Last night, got completely wasted. Exam today, guess I'll face it. Can't even keep my handwriting straight, Guess failure is just my fate. Somehow passed, lets go party! Shit, did I really kiss Marty? Why am I in this chick's bed, Positive pregnancy test, filled with dread. No seriously I'm gay, Why a girl? Wait, how much is this hotel? Hold o

-1- "You're just a ghost." I ran snivelling out of the school building, running and running as fast as my undeveloped, stubby legs would take me, panting and puffing. I couldn't stop for a break. If I did, the result would be nothing short of fatal for me. They were still chasing me, yelling threats, screaming with their fists raised. I had accidentally stepped on the foot of one of them, apologized numerous times, received a square punch in the face, but they still felt the need to punish me. Why? Contemplating this was my mistake as I had lost focus of my path and stumbled over the edge of the sandpit, crashing to the ground with an ungra

-1- "You're just a ghost." I ran snivelling out of the school building, running and running as fast as my undeveloped legs would take me, panting and puffing. I couldn't stop for a break, if I did, the result would be nothing short of fatal for me. They were still chasing me, yelling threats, screaming. I didn't even know what I had done to them, but contemplating this was my mistake as I had lost focus of my path and stumbled over the edge of the sandpit, crashing to the ground with an ungraceful thud and they were around me in seconds, driving their fists into my face, ripping apart my bag like savage wolves on their first kill in a month

September 13th, 1942. Entry one: The evacuation. Most of the mothers were sobbing at the train station as the children waved their handkerchiefs as flags out of the train windows. I gazed vacantly out of the window of my carriage; my mother hadn't seen me even to the train, instead turning on her flat-soled shoes as soon as I was through the paperwork and able to board. My father had died just after war had been declared, and at first my mother mourned, until she grew to hate me when she found out that my father had been having an affair with another woman even before I was born (six years ago), right up until the very night he had been sen

How does one particularly start off a diary? I do not know, but this may sound terribly cliché. The first page was torn out, though, because that amount of personal information is not needed whatsoever, although most of it may come to light anyway throughout this tale. I suppose in the context I am writing this in means that I want someone to find it, to read it, but as for now, I'm writing it how I would speak. I am a woman who will embrace the English language and do continue to speak in full words usually, not chav-speak, text-talk or anything of the like. I say woman, but I do mean fifteen; however, I am an "old soul" as my dear fat

The crowd was restrained by the gates of the train station, guarded heavily by police. Hands that tried to claw at the padlock to gain entrance were swiftly dealt with by a hard whack with the baton of a policeman. This was my final journey, my final day on this earth, and I had touched the hearts of thousands, and those thousands had touched mine. Looking out, seeing the signs claiming my innocence and demanding that my life be spared made my eyes prick with tears, although I refused to shed them in front of the audience. I had always been seen as strong, fearless and courageous, and desired to leave the public eye in that similar way. As I