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post a comment on anything that you want, and post it anonymously.
it can be anything. a story, a secret, a confession, a fear, a love - anything.
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eyeholes in a paper bag
21 January 2020 @ 07:49 pm
post a comment on anything that you want, and post it anonymously.
it can be anything. a story, a secret, a confession, a fear, a love - anything.
22 June 2010 @ 11:35 pm
I think I'll go to Boston
Think I'll start a new life
I think I'll start it over
Where no one knows my name
I'll get out of California
I'm tired of the weather
Think I'll get a lover
And fly him out to Spain
I think I'll go to Boston
I think that I'm just tired
I think I need a new town
To leave this all behind
I think I need a sunrise
I'm tired of Sunset
I hear it's nice in the summer
Some snow would be nice
Think I'll start a new life
I think I'll start it over
Where no one knows my name
I'll get out of California
I'm tired of the weather
Think I'll get a lover
And fly him out to Spain
I think I'll go to Boston
I think that I'm just tired
I think I need a new town
To leave this all behind
I think I need a sunrise
I'm tired of Sunset
I hear it's nice in the summer
Some snow would be nice
03 October 2006 @ 06:20 pm
"Gabriel?" Jonas whispered that night to the newchild.
The crib was in his room again. After Gabe had slept soundly in Jonas's room for four nights, his parents had prounounced the experiment a success and Jonas a hero. Gabriel was growing rapidly, now crawling and giggling across the room and pulling himself up to stand. He could be upgraded in the Nurturing Center, Father said happily, now that he slept; he could be officially named and given to his family in December, which was only two months away.
But when he was taken away, he stopped sleeping again, and cried in the night.
So he was back in Jonas's sleepingroom. They would give it a little more time, they decided. Since Gabe seemed to like it in Jonas's room, he would sleep there at night a little longer, until the habit of sound sleep was fully formed. The Nurturers were very optimistic about Gabriel's future.
There was no answer to Jonas's whisper. Gabriel was sound asleep.
"Things could change, Gabe," Jonas went on. "Things could be different. I don't know how, but there must be some way for things to be different. There could be colors.
"And grandparents," he added, staring through the dimness toward the ceiling of his sleepingroom. "And everybody would have the memories.
"You know about memories," he whispered, turning toward the crib.
Gabriel's breathing was even and deep. Jonas liked having him there, though he felt guilty about the secret. Each night he gave memories to Gabriel: memories of boat rides and picnics in the sun; memories of soft rainfall against windowpanes; memories of dancing barefoot on a damp lawn.
"Gabe?"
The newchild stirred slightly in his sleep. Jonas looked over at him.
"There could be love," Jonas whispered.
