Stories of the Lost and Found

He wasn't quite sure why she blamed him for the events that had taken place. He wasn't a scientist, he couldn't cure diseases or cancer. He wasn't a descendent of Dr. Grey (okay, I may be watching too much TV, be said to himself)  He was a mediocre, white-color male that had went through the same shitty year that she had but somehow he was forced to take the blame. He stomped around the empty and hollow house, knowing she could hear him below. He knew what she was watching when he heard the crash; he inwardly sighed. Most definitely a Jameson bottle. He remembered that last Easter like it was that morning. He remembered dressing them in their matching but different suits. They had let them pick their own colors, they were so smart. And then the bruises began, and the head complaints. And then the scans and the visits to the ER. It all happened so fast, like an avalanche. He knew why she blamed him. His side carried the gene but why would he have ever told her that? She ...

I’m hoping today is way better than yesterday. Each day is a work in progress for me but I’m finally out of my ‘funk’ that had literally consumed me, my attitude and the way I talked to the man I love.  In the past few months my sister has taught me a lot although she doesn’t know it. Between 20-23 is when you really start to figure yourself out. I’ll be 23 in September.  I’ve realized you can’t let people hold you back. I’ve had the same group of friends since high school and had never ventured out…. Why? Because my best friend can be a bitch and doesn’t like anybody. Point blank period. But the sad thing is I’ve realized we’ve grown apart but I’ll still consider her my best friend for life. Another thing, a lot of the people I thought we’re my friends, well, aren’t. And alot of the ones I was brainwashed into thinking were horrible, are fucking wonderful. I’m changing everyday and I love it. I’m becoming more me and not caring what people say. I’ve become closer with a girlf...

She sat there watching the clips flicker thru like a picture book. The boys' collars flapped and fluttered as they frolicked about the brightly colored grass. Their matching seersucker Easter suits, one yellow one green, making them unbelievable handsome. The twins were consumed with an illumination of joy; their faces like that of Angels. She closed her eyes for a second reminiscing and opened them only to wish she hadn't. Her eyes flashed, her ears began to scold; she saw him in the background. She took a swig from the Jameson bottle in her lap and hurled it at the old TV, shattering it into clumps of pieces. She could hear him upstairs, footsteps heavy on the what seemed to be completely hollow floors, and again, like most moments, she wished she could be free of him. He had taken her boys; she'd take his entire existence.