gummysauce

        Isn't it funny how a girl can mean so much to a boy? They call it romantic. Not age thirteen, at age thirteen, it's not love, it's biology; let someone test their blood and tell them they're fine. But these are just kids: they know little about biology and less about love. That's the way it always is. You learn a lot and lose even more, but don't tell that to the boys in this story. They don't know that.         Yet.         Anyone would have noticed how the two boys' gazes lingered on the girl; she was the one th

I can't think I can't breathe I don't know where I'm going or where I've been or If I'm really here at all is this some sort of dream am I dead am I here does it even matter any more? I'm falling, falling, falling, falling I've hit rock bottom I've found a shovel I'm digging, I'm digging, I'm digging and I've hit gold and I've found riches but I don't need them there's no point in them so I'm still digging and I've hit oil and I'm covered in thick oil and it's dark and it disgusting and I can't breathe and I can't see and I can't do anything because I'm still digging and the oil is filling up my lungs and I can't breathe and I'm still digging

  The little girl pointed to a tramp slumped in the unseen depths of the bustling high street, and tugged on her mother's raincoat, 'Mummy,' asked the girl, 'What is that man?'   Pulling her daughter along, the mother said, 'He is a metaphor for all that matters in the world, my child, he is an inspiration both to you and me. His life is harsh, and his clothes are caked in mud and mould, but still he carries on. Quivering through existence like the way a candle flame burns on the 24th of December. That man is the key to human endurance.'   This answer satisfied the girl, and she did not speak again until she sa