Change of perspective
I heard a statistic that 88% of resolutions made will fail. A 12% overall success rate. This year I refuse to make any resolutions...instead I am making commitments to my mind, body and soul. These are not things I want to "resolve" but things I want to make a full commitment to. This might seem like semantics to some but the very definitions of those 2 words illuminate 2 completely different paths. Happy New Year, no fear, next tier. Prose.
Ms. Sob
A thin woman with gray eyes. She never smiles, not even when cheerful people try to cheer her up. She is constantly trying to find re worst in the situation. Barely speaks to anyone, but when she does, her words are weighed-down and stuffed up. Likes to bang her head against the wall. Reaches her cold fingers into sad people's minds and make them cry--and sob.
Yes, that is why you sob when you are upset. Ms. Sob likes to hear you make sounds of distress and unhappiness. So she invented the sob, a choking sound you make when you cry. In fact, she is delighted to hear to utter her very own sound. Otherwise, though, she hates everything. She told me to make that very clear with you.
Robbery
It was late at night when the glass shattered. I heard it almost as if it were a dream. The sound was hazy, and a little fuzzy, like cotton was over my ears. Yet I heard it. I creeped down the polished wood steps, my heart beating so loud and fast I thought it would hop right out of me and run away. A nerve wracking thump came, and I stopped mid- step. The sound of scrambling boots echoed through the long stairway.
Cautiously setting my foot down, the stair made a cracking sound, like a broken bone. The heavy foot steps stopped, and I knew this was it. I was finished. Slowly the steps came up the stairs, and with each one I felt a little more dizzy. The crowd roared from outside, cheering on my enemy. The camera hung from a string directly above me, and tears pooled in my eyes as I looked up. The smell of horrible breath turned my attention back to the present. I was staring into the cold eyes of a big, burly man, wearing all black, his bushy beard tree trunk brown. " Give it up." He growled at me. My throat tightened. Opening my mouth to talk, he slapped it shut. " Save it, runt." He cackled, and his icy blue eyes glinted in the light. There was something wrong.....
"Alrighty folks!! We have a winner!" Boomed a cheery voice over a speaker. "Now Hannah, you get to choose to die yourself or kill Guthry!!" Wait a minute, I thought. Guthry won. He's supposed to choose, not me. Guthry was obviously confused to. "Wait wait WAIT!!!"Guthry screamed." I WON! Not that stupid little girl!" " Hannah! Choose!" The voice boomed again, this time with a tint of inpatientce.
Guthrys eyes glared at me. " Umm, uh," I stuttered." Guthry dies....." I trailed off. Guthry stumbled backward, his eyes wide with fear." What??? What???" A solider in navy green stepped up and yanked Guthrys arms behind his back. "YOU!!!!!" He screamed, trying to pull out of the soldiers grip. " I'LL GET YOU ONE DAY!!!" Guthry was shoved into the back of a police car and driven away. I stood there stiff with shock. What had I just done!! Whatever, I thought. What's done is done. And with that, I headed back upstairs to bed.
Ode to L.A.
L.A. trip, as I flip from the grip of the dark sky to the shine, warmth divine feel, drinking a pale ale with my meal, on a deck by the beach is for real. Reach to the teal sky as I stretch out my arms high, relaxed as I sigh and think about the life, I live away from L.A. My mainstay, would never trade it ok? But I will say, Californ-I-A is cool for this one winter day.