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Take meTake me as I am, for I am what you thinkTake me for a fool, because if that is what you want, that is what I'll beTake me as mute, for I'd rather be silent than joining in your bitchinessTake me for a geek, for I'd rather be studious than stupidTake me as a weakling and throw me against the wallFor I will smile back sweetly and will plot to kill you all.
The Things I do for loveHe struggled up the road, the box under his arm. It was nearly as big as him. It didn't fit in the car, so he struggled to her house from the other side of town."The things I do for love" he muttered. As he reached the gate he carefully placed the box down, too scared in case he dented the pristine cardboard. Silently he undid the gate and edged himself and the box through. He pinned the little pink card onto the logo on the box. Her favourite website, he thought. Too perfect. She spent her life on deviantART and now she had something to put on her wall. He pulled a smaller box out of his pocket. Velvet, black, ring sized. He smiled, rang the bell and silently prayed this went well.The picture hung on the wall. A black, glossy frame framed a picture from their date two months ago. Behind them in the picture was a sign, which read "Marry me".
NamesThe little girl sat on the fluffy purple carpet and cried, she felt small and venerable. They were just names, why were they getting to her? She sniffed and lay down, curling up into a ball and stared. Something under her bed caught her eye, her teddy from when she was 5, abandoned in an attempt to be an adult. She reached out and grabbed it, pulling close to her heart and held it tight. She apologised to it, muttering into it's dusty fur for leaving it. The tears rolled down her face and dripped onto the bears cold steely eyes. They were only names, why did it hurt her so much?She heard shouting. He was coming; they were just names, weren't they? The bruises meant nothing, he just lost it sometimes, and it was the names... but was it. The purple carpet was turning red. The bear's lose beady eyes seemed to be dull in sadness and disappointment. She heard footsteps and the shouting grew louder. She couldn't bear to face him. She took the ring off and placed it on the bed, reached for t
WatchingWhen the little caterpillar wrigglesAlong the tree, I follow it with myEyes; When the fish swims against theStream, I sit and watch for hours. I watchBirds fly around in the sky and bees onFlowers.Does this mean I have too much time on my hands?
The Girl in the white dressThe white dress was laid in front of her. She closed her eyes and sighed. She hated it. It was the dress she's dreamed about since she was little, although she was still little now. But she hated it. Her mother had ordered it for her, and the seamstress has spent months making it. Money was no object. Her Father wanted her to be the prettiest girl there and wanted to show her off. He was proud of her. But she still hated it. The Maid put on the necklace her father had given her for her 14th birthday, a week ago. It was of pure gold, with a sparkling diamond. It looked expensive, and it was. But her father had bought it for this very day, and as the maid wrapped it around her neck, she felt the coldness of the money, and the coldness of her father.The dress stared at her, almost haunting her. She had seen it in at her home in Spain, and had loved it, but here in cold, stone, "home" in England, it horrified her. The maid picked the little girl up with ease and placed her on the