The BLA: Part 1It was Monday morning when Matthew received the strangest letter he had ever gotten. It seemed normal enough upon finding it in his post-box; an envelope not too small to be something sent from a friend and not too big to be something all that important. But it was bright blue, his name and address printed on the back in standard typing, and thick black letters in the bottom corner that read BLA. Curious as he was, he opened it swiftly and read it, and his curiosity grew.
Unsure of what the letter meant, he took it to his older brother Alfred for his opinion.
"What's blah?" Alfred wrinkled his nose as he emphasised the word that featured on the very top of the letter.
"I think it's said B.L.A." Matthew explained, reaching out to grab the letter from his brother, who clearly wasn't going to be much help. But Alfred moved away from him and began to pace around his living room.
"Matthew Williams," he read aloud, "We cordially invite you to attend the next BLA meeting on Janu
remembering yesterday.i saw a girl, yesterday, sitting on the pavement. her back was against the molding brick, and the leaves were falling around her body like tears, her arms were scrunched up in front of her face, shielding her beauty from the town. there was a fresh scar on her wrist, still bright and burning with pain. i've been in that position many times. so i sat beside her.
she moved her arms from her face, and looked at me with her muddy brown eyes, one eye covered with her black hair, and other with tears. her eyeliner had run down her face like a symphony, and no one even stopped long enough to notice-except for me; i understood.
we didn't speak. we just focused our eyes on each other. not even a blink came from her or me. it was like a photograph, two people frozen while everyone else around them moved freely. except we didn't smile, or show our tongues, we sat-blank and damaged.
she moved closer to me, putting her hand on mine, and her head on my broad, pale shoulder. she trusted me, even thou
Even if it Kills Me.My father ran off with my mother's best friend when I was five and my sister was three. I watched him pack his suitcases, but I was too young to understand. When I asked him where he was going, he turned to me, put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Charlie, you're the man of the house now. Take care of your mother and your sister." After that, he picked up a sheet of paper and a pen, wrote something down, and walked out. I went over a read the note: "My key is under the mat. Won't be needing it anymore. Goodbye." That was the last I saw of him. I haven't heard from him since; no birthday cards, phone calls, letters, nothing. When he walked out of that apartment, he walked out of my life.
That was the day my childhood died.
On the other hand, though, my mom has always been around. Well, at least physically - after my dad left, she kind of lost her mind. For the first couple of weeks, she shut herself in her room and wouldn't stop crying; we had to go stay at my Uncle Mike's until she c
Wont wear a dress nor a skirt
Makeup is for girls
You see me shopping for baggy clothes in the boys section
Not to be mixed up with a butch lesbian
No I am not gay stop hooking me up with your girlfriend
I grew up this way
I played with ninja turtles and batman action figures
I didnt care much for dolls or Barbie even though there were
Moments of time when I pretended to be mom and Ken had his girls
I was more concerned if I was going to get to play with batman today
Instead I had to be robin but it still made my day
As I grew older I had to put the girly things on and act lady like this I despised very much
To this day I still have to play girl in order for the world around me to accept me for that first impression
I have the balls to play their games
I play the same action, war, adventure games with my brother
I burp just as loud or as louder than my boys
I am given hell but I throw it right back just as strong