Monday, March 26, 2012


The bruises on my skin were still developing when I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Michael, come out of there!" It was my dad. He wasn't done for the night.

I replied to him, "Just a minute," trying to hide my sniffles. Couldn't show my weakness.

I rubbed on my temples, and as I heard my dad retreat down the stairs, my nerves began to calm.

I asked the mirror, "I wish life was better. I wish the world's problems would just disappear so people could be happy."

And then I vanished.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.