My life is my message....
Words uttered by Gandhi years ago. People have used them over and over and over, and yet, not a single one of the people who have used these words knows the true meaning behind it.
Doctors’ offices are closed on Sunday so they can go golfing; businesses only care about money and size; people change what they want to do with their lives every thirty seconds. The meanings of these words are gone.
These were my exact thoughts running through my head. I wanted to create and I always knew that. I've known it since I was little. I carry paper and something to write with everywhere. I have written an entire story on my driveway with sidewalk chalk and then took pictures of it so that I didn't have to rewrite it. I want to create to give back the hopes and dreams that I have grown up with. Words are the reason that my soul is still alive.
I looked over next to me. He was just sitting there. He said that he wanted to save lives. He wanted this war to end. He wanted souls to stay alive.
But now... now he's just sitting here. He refuses to look at the people around him. Just because he lost her, he's given up.
I know that there is a difference between his dreams and mine. He wanted to show people that not all hope was lost. He wanted to show people that we could live and be happy and be free. I wanted to show people that anything could be used to grow; that one person out there loved you. We'd been helping each other for years. Ever since we were little to now.
He's given up, but I haven't.
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Ummm... wow. I can barely distinguish the parts that are actually me to the parts that aren't...
Readers' and Writers' Guild
A place for anyone who enjoys a good book
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