Things that I can't Remember

Time to write!


I can’t remember the first birthday party I went to.

I can’t remember what I wore on my first date with Austin. I really can’t remember what he wore.

I can’t remember when the first time was that I told my brothers I loved them.

I can’t remember what my favorite outfit was in the seventh grade.

I can’t remember the words to certain songs I thought I’d always know.

I can’t remember how many times I fought with my cousins.

I can’t remember who my first real crush was.

I can’t remember why I ever liked Jarrett-it sounds like ferret.

I can’t remember the dream I had last night.

I can’t remember the choreography to dances I did even a couple years ago.

I can’t remember the first time I wasn’t afraid of a dog.

I can’t remember the last time either of my parents yelled at me.

I can’t remember when the last time Andrew and I had a real conversation was.

I can’t remember what I ate on my ninth birthday.

I can’t remember.

I can’t remember what else I can’t remember.

Fear

Time to write!



Fear

“You can’t move a muscle,” Zachary said, his face very close to mine, his blue eyes sparkling with
mischief.
“But I’m not comfy, Zach,” I complained to my older brother. I already resented being put to bed so
early so that my brothers could go watch a movie while my parents were out on date that Friday night,
and now Zachary was squishing me, pulling the blankets so tightly around me that I couldn’t move my
legs at all.
“Listen, Breanna,” he said, very patiently, mooshing the blankets around my face and making me feel
like I was some sort of Breanna-filling in a big comforter taco shell. “Tonight is the night of the Living
Dead. If I don’t wrap you up this way, the vampires will come and they’ll kill you.”
At this age I’d laugh at such a statement. At fifteen I would’ve rolled my eyes. My twelve year old self
would’ve been beyond irritated at the incessant teasing and would’ve kicked the blankets off definatly-
probably kicking a bit of older brother too, just for good measure. But at nine years old, my only reaction
was horror.

Night of the Living Dead?

Who even knew there was such a night? And why in the name of all things good and gracious had my
parents left that particular night? Didn’t they love me at all?

Ten Reasons

Time to write!

Come up with ten reasons you should never record your life story.

1. Hi. Embarrassing?
2. I would never be able to finish it. But maybe that's a good thing.
3. Not everyone WANTS to know all the things that have happened
4. I don't remember everything that's ever happened to me.
5. It might put the people I love in danger...because I'm Batman
6. Then I'd have to write about people I'd rather forget  - although those people formed the experiences that let me do some of my best writing
7. Because if I'm always writing about my own life I won't be able to write about the lives of all the people who live in my head and want to get out.
8. Fantasy story lines are much more entertaining
9. I did really dumb stuff when I was little. And when I was in Jr. High. And high school... and now... So I guess this is basically the same as #1, but I'm leaving it.
10. I'd tell you....but then I'd have to kill you.

Nothing like the cliche of all cliches to end a really lame blog entry. In my defense I started and finished not one, not two, but three essays this very evening. 

Romantic

Time to write!

Inspired by a true story...hem hem.

It wasn't anything much, but it made her heart pound and skip in ways it hadn't done in over a year. The sky was blue, the sun was bright.
He'd apologized for the lameness of the statement, but even he had found the conditions so ideal that he'd commented to her on how beautiful the day was.
She'd agreed and then they lay there in simple silence.
With hands linked, her left in his right, her thoughts were serene as she let herself relax, enjoying the feel of the grass underneath her, and the sun on her face. She closed her eyes and turned her head so she wouldn't have to smash her hair, quickly thrown into a bun.
When his forehead touched hers, she wanted to stay there for the rest of the day.