Creative Writing Her.

This story isn't a story. It's just something I can't explain. Something I have to write.

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"Going to school today?", Her mother asked.
"**** no, I don't feel like it.", She replied.
"Well get some cleaning done. Jim's coming tonight.", She demanded.
"Whatever mom..going back to bed.", She screamed.

She slammed the door to her mother's replies and pulled her mother's prescribed xanex from under her bed. She picked three out and took them. Her eyes closed and a tear went down. Why should she care if no one else does? I'll just keep drowning in my pills untill the day the doctor's tell me i'm finished. That's how my dad died..why not me? Follow in his footsteps. That's all I want to do.

A few minutes later..

Nothing can hurt me. Nothing can bother me. I'm invinsible. Hah Hah hah..

A few hours later...

Help me..

A few years later..

"Tiffany!!!!! TIFFANY!!!! WAKE UP!!! TIFFANY PLEASE GOD WAKE UP YOUR SCARING ME!!!", Her best friend screamed.

Her dream came true.
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I pray every night i'll never be "her" again.

 

I hope "she" never comes back either peachy ^^ Ever. I just finally got a chance to read some of the writings on here, and thanks for sharing. It lets us look into a window of a too valid horror story, of parts of your own life, so thanks.

 

All will be well in the end. May not look it, but it winds up that way anyway.

And just as a little side note, the name is "Bill Moseley" of who played Otis B. Driftwood for your quote in your sig. Originally attributed to Charles Tex Watson of the Manson "family"... just a little note. >.>