Post by Yoshifrog on Feb 13, 2006 19:10:36 GMT -5
I have always thought of the thrill of writing a novel- or at least something similar . This is my attemp.
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Just Try and be Immortal
CHAPTER 1
the introduction
There wasn’t much to worry about, out in Maine, where people are too sweet and lovable to be bad. Yet still, I can tell the dangers that hang about in most cities are present, they just refuse to show themselves in a place so humble. I recall the feeling of freedom, when I moved here, almost 4 years ago. It feels like just last week I went from busy streets to beautiful countryside pastures, and miles of wooded land. The variation of landscape was so refreshing, a small city street, a farm, a coastline edged with seaweed that’s drifted in from the small but forceful waves that beat the shore in a pattern similar to that of a drum. My teacher once read me something an author wrote- “I carry with me two books, one to read when I am bored, and one to write in about the many things that I see.” I know that isn’t an exact quote, but it works. So I’ll be alike to him, and tell you all I know about myself- or as much as I know at all. This will be a learning experience for us both.
I am a seventh grader, a B student, always trying to be better than I really am and hiding my true feelings under a strange outgoing teenager who covers up her voice with that of her friends, with there “like’s” and such- I want to talk like a being, not some crazy girly girl. I can’t help but stay up late on my computer, talking to online friends who share my opinions and interests but don’t realize how late it is in my time zone. I’m always tired so lack of energy feels normal. Sometimes I don’t realize the trouble I’m getting into until English when the teacher tells me to look in the table of contents in my reading book and I do it in my head, on the internet, juggling, and in a day dream. I shake my head but the heaviness in my eyelids returns and I don’t understand anything, meaningless words running in and out of my brain, and the conversations of the other students don’t even enlighten the curiosity which lies within the person who I am when I should be. I don’t even try and be brazen enough to put anything more personal than the feelings that aren’t deep enough in my heart to keep a secret in this poor story of my life. I feel locked up, a safe filled with stolen cash that I’m too afraid to tell about, afraid to be killed by the greedy owners who made me swear not to slip and rat them out. Grades are slipping as well. With my confidence lowering, I sometimes feel rejected, that I don’t look good, or smell good, that I’m ugly, or weird. But I’m a teenager, so it isn’t all that surprising.
Focusing more on my positives in life- Despite the way I always seem to feel a misfit, people treat me with respect. The problem is, it more so discourages me, for I feel they only do it to make me feel better. Boys thankfully alike treat me with respect, which raises my hopes because the boys at my school are mean, and cruelly honest- I don’t know if that’s a good thing either. Maybe it’s good that they don’t care what people think of them. But if I did that I’d make a fool of myself, just like in fifth grade. That brings me shudders, what a dumb fool I was. I just didn’t care. I treated life like it didn’t matter. But at least I got good grades…
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Well there's my attemp at writing something that's not poetry. It isn't pretty is it?
Chapter 2 will be comming shortly.
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Chapter two is extremely short, sorry.
CHAPTER 2
I climbed onto the bus, my hair nearly frozen due to the harsh cold winter winds on my damp hair; the disadvantages of taking showers in the morning. Mornings in my life are brutal. I wake up late, tired. I never have time to get ready for school in a manner in which I want. If I try to get up early, I ignore my guilt and impulse to get up, and fall back asleep. That’s the way I am. Being only the second person to get on the bus, when I sat down, I immediately began warming my hair- I didn’t want the other passengers to see its poor estate. One wrong move and who new, my hair might break off. After I was certain my hair was fine I did what I always do. I pulled out my CD player, some headphones, and a good book. That’s my way of entertaining myself, and blocking out the harsh, cursing, bad-talking mouths of the people from the apartment buildings on the farther side of town. Remember how I told you bad things stayed hidden here? There’s an exception. Those kids are horrible people. I guess it’s just because they need some way to let out the anger their life has brought them.
I passed easily through school. Only a few things- English again spaced me out into neverland, and I got a 63 on my math quiz. I got straight A’s in my homework in math last quarter- but a bunch of rotten quizzes gave me my first C+. This was a problem, so I new I needed to keep up better. I didn’t do my homework, knowing I could escape it and do it in study hall 2nd period. Procrastination again overtook me. Yet when I got home, I was strangely satisfied- at least today hadn’t been another terror.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just Try and be Immortal
CHAPTER 1
the introduction
There wasn’t much to worry about, out in Maine, where people are too sweet and lovable to be bad. Yet still, I can tell the dangers that hang about in most cities are present, they just refuse to show themselves in a place so humble. I recall the feeling of freedom, when I moved here, almost 4 years ago. It feels like just last week I went from busy streets to beautiful countryside pastures, and miles of wooded land. The variation of landscape was so refreshing, a small city street, a farm, a coastline edged with seaweed that’s drifted in from the small but forceful waves that beat the shore in a pattern similar to that of a drum. My teacher once read me something an author wrote- “I carry with me two books, one to read when I am bored, and one to write in about the many things that I see.” I know that isn’t an exact quote, but it works. So I’ll be alike to him, and tell you all I know about myself- or as much as I know at all. This will be a learning experience for us both.
I am a seventh grader, a B student, always trying to be better than I really am and hiding my true feelings under a strange outgoing teenager who covers up her voice with that of her friends, with there “like’s” and such- I want to talk like a being, not some crazy girly girl. I can’t help but stay up late on my computer, talking to online friends who share my opinions and interests but don’t realize how late it is in my time zone. I’m always tired so lack of energy feels normal. Sometimes I don’t realize the trouble I’m getting into until English when the teacher tells me to look in the table of contents in my reading book and I do it in my head, on the internet, juggling, and in a day dream. I shake my head but the heaviness in my eyelids returns and I don’t understand anything, meaningless words running in and out of my brain, and the conversations of the other students don’t even enlighten the curiosity which lies within the person who I am when I should be. I don’t even try and be brazen enough to put anything more personal than the feelings that aren’t deep enough in my heart to keep a secret in this poor story of my life. I feel locked up, a safe filled with stolen cash that I’m too afraid to tell about, afraid to be killed by the greedy owners who made me swear not to slip and rat them out. Grades are slipping as well. With my confidence lowering, I sometimes feel rejected, that I don’t look good, or smell good, that I’m ugly, or weird. But I’m a teenager, so it isn’t all that surprising.
Focusing more on my positives in life- Despite the way I always seem to feel a misfit, people treat me with respect. The problem is, it more so discourages me, for I feel they only do it to make me feel better. Boys thankfully alike treat me with respect, which raises my hopes because the boys at my school are mean, and cruelly honest- I don’t know if that’s a good thing either. Maybe it’s good that they don’t care what people think of them. But if I did that I’d make a fool of myself, just like in fifth grade. That brings me shudders, what a dumb fool I was. I just didn’t care. I treated life like it didn’t matter. But at least I got good grades…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well there's my attemp at writing something that's not poetry. It isn't pretty is it?
Chapter 2 will be comming shortly.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Chapter two is extremely short, sorry.
CHAPTER 2
I climbed onto the bus, my hair nearly frozen due to the harsh cold winter winds on my damp hair; the disadvantages of taking showers in the morning. Mornings in my life are brutal. I wake up late, tired. I never have time to get ready for school in a manner in which I want. If I try to get up early, I ignore my guilt and impulse to get up, and fall back asleep. That’s the way I am. Being only the second person to get on the bus, when I sat down, I immediately began warming my hair- I didn’t want the other passengers to see its poor estate. One wrong move and who new, my hair might break off. After I was certain my hair was fine I did what I always do. I pulled out my CD player, some headphones, and a good book. That’s my way of entertaining myself, and blocking out the harsh, cursing, bad-talking mouths of the people from the apartment buildings on the farther side of town. Remember how I told you bad things stayed hidden here? There’s an exception. Those kids are horrible people. I guess it’s just because they need some way to let out the anger their life has brought them.
I passed easily through school. Only a few things- English again spaced me out into neverland, and I got a 63 on my math quiz. I got straight A’s in my homework in math last quarter- but a bunch of rotten quizzes gave me my first C+. This was a problem, so I new I needed to keep up better. I didn’t do my homework, knowing I could escape it and do it in study hall 2nd period. Procrastination again overtook me. Yet when I got home, I was strangely satisfied- at least today hadn’t been another terror.