Helping a Close Friend - 6/1

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Madhatter22
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RE: Helping a Close Friend - 6/1

Postby Madhatter22 » Thu Jun 03, 2010 2:26 pm

"I'm going for it!"
"Uh? Going for what?"
"You know we talked about it like a month ago."
"No, I don't know refresh my memory."
"Okay, okay. Oouh, I'm going to change myself."
"Okay, well it's not New Year, but sounds great."
"No, no, no! You really don't remember uh? No, I'm changing who I am physically."
"What do you mean physically, like working out? You're finally going to get in-shape."
"NO! I'm having a sex change!"
"WHOA! A sex change, but why? I like you just how you are."
"Thats great, but I hate who I am, or what I am is a better statement."
"I don't think you should tamper with what God made and planned for you."
"**** him! I don't care what he planned for me. It's my body I can change if I want. Besides I'm tired of being called a faggot. I'm not a bundle of sticks you know."
"Yeah, I know your not a bundle of sticks, but just for the record. 1) the bundle of sticks fagot is spelled with one "g" while the homo faggot is spelled with "gg", and 2) Jesus never said that he loved everyone except faggots."
"I just want to be a woman, so that men, real men, will want me and I can have them."
"But you'll be an abomination. A modern day Frankenstein of sexual deviance and gender masked malevolence for your own kind. How about instead of running away from your problems, or cloaking them with a vagina, why don't you stand up for who you are and know that God does not condemn you, but only your sinful actions. Even when a man and woman consort in deviant sexual relations it is a sin."
"So you're saying I should be me."
"Yes, remain yourself, and God will love you as long as you do right by God."
"Okay, thank you pastor I feel better now about who I am. I don't need a sex change, I just need me."

Madhatter22
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RE: Helping a Close Friend - 6/1

Postby Madhatter22 » Thu Jun 03, 2010 2:26 pm

"I'm going for it!"
"Uh? Going for what?"
"You know we talked about it like a month ago."
"No, I don't know refresh my memory."
"Okay, okay. Oouh, I'm going to change myself."
"Okay, well it's not New Year, but sounds great."
"No, no, no! You really don't remember uh? No, I'm changing who I am physically."
"What do you mean physically, like working out? You're finally going to get in-shape."
"NO! I'm having a sex change!"
"WHOA! A sex change, but why? I like you just how you are."
"Thats great, but I hate who I am, or what I am is a better statement."
"I don't think you should tamper with what God made and planned for you."
"**** him! I don't care what he planned for me. It's my body I can change if I want. Besides I'm tired of being called a faggot. I'm not a bundle of sticks you know."
"Yeah, I know your not a bundle of sticks, but just for the record. 1) the bundle of sticks fagot is spelled with one "g" while the homo faggot is spelled with "gg", and 2) Jesus never said that he loved everyone except faggots."
"I just want to be a woman, so that men, real men, will want me and I can have them."
"But you'll be an abomination. A modern day Frankenstein of sexual deviance and gender masked malevolence for your own kind. How about instead of running away from your problems, or cloaking them with a vagina, why don't you stand up for who you are and know that God does not condemn you, but only your sinful actions. Even when a man and woman consort in deviant sexual relations it is a sin."
"So you're saying I should be me."
"Yes, remain yourself, and God will love you as long as you do right by God."
"Okay, thank you pastor I feel better now about who I am. I don't need a sex change, I just need me."

Madhatter22
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Leanne Dyck

Postby Madhatter22 » Thu Jun 03, 2010 2:29 pm

that was very good. Just for that little bit it had me snagged and entranced.

Neets
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RE: Helping a Close Friend - 6/1

Postby Neets » Fri Jun 04, 2010 7:41 am

When Hannah approached the table it was easy to see she'd been crying. Of course when she called and asked me to meet her within the hour, her voice also revealed her sorrow.

I was sitting there at the table, tense, knotting my napkin in my lap my shoulders aching, wondering how I could help her.

We'd been friends for three years now, and I felt I knew her pretty well, but I didn't feel confident that I would be the best person to help her in this time of need, I wasn't even very good about handling my own problems well. Hannah must have already realized this about me, I prayed she just needed to talk as she took her seat.

No need for small talk at this point, so I took her hand. "Is the baby okay?"

"No."

"No? What's happened?"

"Look, I didn't want to talk to anyone about this, but Jack and I decided we wanted an amniocentesis performed. It didn't turn out well. My baby has Down syndrome."

"Oh Hannah, oh no..." I got up from the table and came around to give her a hug about her shoulders, and I could feel sobs coming up in her chest as she hugged me back.

"What have you and Jack decided to do?"

"Jack and I have decided to call it quits. He wants me to terminate the pregnancy. He said if I decide to have the baby I am going to have to do it without him. He got real nasty. I couldn't believe it, spit was flying out of his mouth, he was screaming at me, he was like a dog with rabies."

"What should I do Dana?"

"Hannah, I couldn't possibly know what to do in your shoes, it's a huge undertaking... what does your heart say?"

"My heart's in shock right now, I'm not sure..."

Her voice, was choking back the anguish and she was struggling to talk. "Jack told me that he will find a lawyer that will make sure it won't be stuck having to support this child, that because I know the baby is going to cost a fortune and I'm doing it anyway."

Hannah picked up her napkin and covered her face with it, her shoulders shaking.

"Come on, we have to take a walk, you need some fresh air." I came around the table again, forcing her napkin down from her face, I put my hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at me. "Stop. Okay. Just stop for a moment Hannah, we need to think, we need to get some air."

She nodded, and we left to go to the park across the way. She drank some water at the fountain, and we sat.

"Oh my God Hannah, I hate Jack." I said. Those were strong words for me. "I used to love Jack!"

She nodded. "Exactly."

"Do your parents know?"

"No, I can't face them right now, Dana, I was a fool to think I could have a child at my age."

"Honey, 38 is not that old, really, there was still a very good chance that you'd be okay."

"Well I'm not okay, the baby is not okay, and I don't know Dana, I don't know if I can do this alone."

"Hannah, you know I will help you." I picked up her hand again and held it in mine.

"Dana, I know you would help, but I don't know if it's going to be enough..."

"I know, I know, neither do I..."

I'm glad I told her I would be there for her that day. I meant it. She decided to go it alone. "It was already my baby before I had the test done." She told me. "I already loved my baby before the test."

Life being all about taking chances, she went ahead, with the support of her friends and family.

I guess I did get a chance to help Hannah, I was there with her in the delivery room, holding her hand tightly as she passed away.

I helped her Mom and Dad pack up her house, I couldn't help them with their grief, I didn't really know them. I helped them and their friends pack it all away. I packed away the nursery, they couldn't go in. We loaded it all up, and the Goodwill truck came that evening.

I saw Jack yesterday at the bank's parking lot. He didn't see me. I had just finished putting my pen into my bag. I wanted to take the pen and stab him in the neck with it.

I was shocked by the strength of my rage, how I so easily came to the conclusion that he should not live. The irony of this thought was not lost on my mind as I tried to remember how much I once cared for this friend.

Didn't he have a right to say he didn't want the responsibility of bringing up a child with so many challenges?

Maybe he did. I still hated him for hurting her so. I gripped the pen tightly, and shook it in my fist in frustration, and put it back in my bag.

How can love go so wrong, so many songs on the subject, all of them blaring out of my radio tonight. Not one of those sad songs ever fully answers the question. I miss you Hannah, and your baby James.

There are no answers here.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Word count limits mean nothing to me! Ha Ha!

I am a rebel and a cad!

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Re: Helping a Close Friend - 6/1

Postby PhoenixFiresky » Sat Jun 05, 2010 1:53 am

A Season For Goodbye

Carla reached toward me with a hand like a dead bird’s claw, but stopped short of touching me. Instead, she picked at the minute pills on the black and green afghan covering her fragile body, pulling each one carefully from the blanket and studying it closely before flicking it to the living room floor.

“I’m so tired.” She spoke tonelessly, without looking at me, “You have no idea what it’s like, day after day. You can’t know. Nobody can. And…I want…”

The liquid that had been churning in my stomach coalesced into ice. I wasn’t hearing this. I WOULD NOT hear this. Not from Carla, who had always been the strong one – the single solid fixture in my life. The only person I could trust completely. My twin.

“Carla,” I interrupted, cutting rudely across her gentle words, “You’re just having a bad day. A bad week. You need to rest – you’ll feel better then. You know I’ll do anything to help.” As if I were outside myself, I heard my voice morph into an artificial, maniacally cheerful tone that even I didn’t recognize. “How about if I take the kids to the park while you take a nap before Dan comes home?”

The hospital bed creaked metallically as she shifted her slight weight, craning to see past me in order to check that Lauren and Ashley were too engrossed by the cartoon at the other end of the room to have heard my offer. They were oblivious. Frenetic music blared as they watched a cleaver-wielding cat attempting to dismember a fleeing mouse. I totally identified with the mouse – I felt like I was running for my life, too.

Resettled, Carla smiled wryly and met my eyes with a gaze I’d seen only in photos of concentration camp victims. “Junebug,” she said, “we both know that rest isn’t going to help. Resting is all I ever do. I lie here in this damn hospital bed all day long. I don’t go anywhere. I don’t do anything useful. I just lie here, hooked up to these machines, and watch out the window as everyone else lives their lives. “

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell her that, just by existing, she was doing something useful for me, and for Dan and the girls – to tell her that we all needed her – but she waved me to silence.

“My medical bills,” she continued, in a voice that could cut iron, “cost thousands of dollars a month – and that’s out of pocket. We’ve used up the girls’ college fund. We’re behind on the mortgage. Dan doesn’t say anything, but he’s worried sick about money AND he has to be up at all hours taking care of me. You’re over here helping out more than you’re home with your own family. Keeping me alive is draining the life out of everyone I love.”

Carla leaned forward then, as she had when we were children together and she had some great secret to impart to me. “I don’t want to live like this. Not at this price. Not under these conditions – and the conditions aren’t going to change. I’m not going to get better. Not ever. I love all of you to death, but I just don’t want to do it anymore. And if I don’t do something about it soon, it’ll be too late.”

The ice in my stomach spawned a Tilt-A-Whirl in my head. Bolting from my chair, I ran past the surprised girls, into the bathroom where I slammed the door just in time to spill my lunch, along with my tears, into the toilet.

Small hands pounded on the bathroom door. “Aunt June, are you OK?” My voice quavered, thin and unbelievable to my own ears as I answered, “I’m fine. I just ate something bad at lunch, I think. I’ll be out in a minute.” It must’ve been enough to convince a pair of six year olds, however, because the next time I heard their voices, they’d gone back to watch television.

I washed my face, then, letting the cool water run over my burning eyes. And the next words I spoke, I said to Carla.

“What do you want me to do?”

There was steel in her eyes as she replied, “Dan has a business trip coming up, and I’ve arranged a sleepover for the girls. I’m sorry you’ll have to deal with this. I can...do it...myself. I know how. I just need you for...after. To take care of things before they come back." Her eyes - the only remaining sign of our twinness, filled with tears matching my own. "I'm sorry," she apologized again, "I know this is huge. I asked Dan but...he just...couldn't.”

“Hey, it’s OK” I replied.

eternoxamante
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Re: Helping a Close Friend - 6/1

Postby eternoxamante » Sat Jun 05, 2010 5:56 am

I am so sorry that this waaaay exceeds the limit T^T But I wanted to share it and get critique on it. I hope you enjoy.

**

“Sparrow, this is important.”
With her, it is always important. Everything is a crisis. Everything in the world could potentially change her life, or could change our friendship. My guitar was in my lap, and I strummed at it absently, playing her favorite chords from my fingers, hoping that today’s drama wasn’t going to result in the end of us, as it always seems to. She was my best friend and my worst enemy. I was her confidant, and she was something pretty for me to look at when I wanted to be alone but couldn’t stomach another lonely afternoon with my guitar. I knew everything about her while she stayed in the dark about me, and she always came to me when she needed someone to talk to. She didn’t know anything; she didn’t know what was important to me, nor did she care, but she was my best friend anyway because hell, I didn’t have many friends, and well, at least she knew my name and liked the way my fingers moved across the guitar’s neck.
“Listen to me, Sparrow!”
I didn’t look up, but I nodded to show that I was listening. When she said my name, people looked over at us; Sparrow? I know they were thinking it. Sparrow’s a girl name, and I looked like a boy. I had cut my long hair from my mid-back to just below my chin, and I had a hat on backward inside of her favorite café - a totally disrespectful thing that I guess only guys do - and my baggiest pair of jeans hung loosely off of my not-so-feminine hips. I thought that the wife beater I had on would at least show people that I was a girl, because I was quote-unquote “blessed” with a C-cup in bust size, but no one noticed my girls. I didn’t care, though. She looked around the café nervously and sighed.
“Sparrow, can’t you dress like a girl for once?”
Skinny jeans, tightly-fitting v-necks, heels that click against the floor, no hats; just bows in my hair? That sounded SO - insert sarcasm here - appealing. But I didn’t say that; you can’t say things like that with her, because I had just made the perfect description of her outfit in my mind and she always takes offense in those things. So I looked up at her and I said, very seriously, “Are you going to fill me in on what you brought me here for, or should I just go?”
“You know I don’t mean anything by that, Sparrow. It’s just… people think we’re together when we go places because of how you dress.” She ran her finger, with her fake nails that had the French manicure on them, around the rim of the lid of her coffee cup. I knew immediately that this conversation was one of those “you-need-to-change-or-we-can’t-hang-out-any-more-Sparrow” conversations. It wasn’t important; nothing is ever important with her, nothing is ever life-changing with her. But damn, did I love her. Damn, do I love her. I wanted nothing more than to take her hand at that moment and say, “Why can’t you be a bisexual, Nicole? Why can’t you be with me?” But it wasn’t my life-changing conversation. It was hers, and it wasn’t her turn to listen, it was mine, like it’s always my turn to listen.
“Anyway,” She continued; maybe it WASN’T going to be one of those talks. “I… I’m pregnant.”
Oh, didn’t see that one coming. This was really something that would change her life forever. “Well damn, Nicole. I told you your boyfriend was a no-good piece of poop unicorns and rainbows.” There; nothing better than being blunt, I’ve always said. I stopped strumming my guitar and I licked some of the whipped cream off of the top of my hot chocolate; I had taken the lid off a while ago.
“Shut up, Sparrow; now’s not the time for this.” Nicole looked at me with those hazel puppy-dog eyes and I took a nonchalant sip of my hot chocolate. I nodded for her to continue; I knew that she wasn’t done. It was never that simple with her. “And… I think I want to get an abortion.”
I set my cup down and I placed my hands back on the guitar. I love the body of a woman; it’s the main reason that I’m a lesbian. But the other reason is because I can’t knock a girl up or get knocked up, and therefore I can avoid all the “let’s keep it” “let’s get an abortion” “let’s give it up” talk once the deed has been done. Or, that was what I thought. As I sat there and looked at Nicole, I didn’t know what to say. No matter how much I had wanted the sex change in middle school, I wasn’t a man, and Nicole’s baby wasn’t my baby, and this wasn’t my problem. But Nicole was my best friend. It was my job to give her advice on every life-changing situation she ever encountered. I had just never expected her problems to be real.
“And?” It was all I could say. I didn’t know what else I was supposed to say.
“And? And is all you have to say to me?” Nicole batted her long eyelashes in shock. “You don’t want to argue with me? You don’t want to tell me not to do it?” I wondered for a minute who she had gone to before she had come to me.
“You’re not ready for a kid.” I stated simply. “You’re immature, you’re lazy, you’re always ready for drama, and you’re too proud to leave something when it’s dead.” I strummed her favorite chords again, studying the strings of my guitar as if I could see her face reflected in them. “If you don’t want to go through with having the kid just to give it up, then do what you’ve got to do.”
“So you don’t want me to keep it.” I could sense disappointment in her voice, and I looked up at her.
“Nicole, you’re always one big ball of drama. Did you come here because you really wanted my advice, or did you come here just to argue with me about whether or not you should get an abortion?” She looked at her coffee cup and I looked at her nails. They made her hands look so dainty.
“I wanted your honest opinion.” She whispered. “Do you think he’ll want to keep it, though?”
I knew James, Nicole’s boyfriend, back in middle school. He and I used to smoke cigarettes in the bathroom and talk about girl troubles in the sixth grade. I had tied my hair up into my hat almost every single day, and so he thought I was a guy, and we were pretty close. Then I started developing breasts and my hair got too long to hide and he hated me for pretending that I was a guy and started calling me dyke every single day. The tormenting hasn’t stopped yet, and we’re sophomores in high school. Even regardless of the taunting, I knew James, and I knew that he would want her to have the child and keep it. I continued playing those chords and I thought. I thought about how it would ruin her life, and about how it would completely destroy her hopes and dreams of becoming a successful fashion designer.
“Nah, I don’t think so.” I lied, but because lying is second nature to me, she believed me. “Have you taken a pregnancy test yet?”
“I took four, and they all came out positive.” Nicole moved her finger away from her coffee cup and examined her nails; I watched her from the corner of my eye. I wondered what it would feel like to have those nails digging into my back. As I got lost in a sea of, again, quote-unquote “impure” thoughts, she suddenly stopped everything that she was doing. “Sparrow, do you have hickies on your neck?!”
Uh-oh; busted? I looked up from my guitar and dead into her eyes, and then back down. “No.” Another bold-faced lie.
“You’ve got like, seven!” Nicole leaned over the table and grabbed my chin, tilting my head up. “When did you get a boyfriend?!”
“I didn’t.” I grumbled, pulling my chin away and looking at my guitar. If she found out that I hadn’t spent the night at her house last night because I was messing around with the girl that was at the top of the pyramid in her little Varsity Cheerleading squad, she would never forgive me.
“So you’re just a whore now?” She sat back and glared at me. “I never thought you’d be the kind of girl to have sex for a guy’s attention.
“Whose the pregnant one here?” I tried to change the subject.
“I’ve only had sex with one guy!” Nicole exclaimed, “Who was it?!” Was that jealousy that I detected in her voice?
“No one. I gave them to myself.”
“I tell you everything, Sparrow!” This time, I heard sadness. “Why can’t you talk to me?”
“Because it wasn’t a guy, Nicole.” I set my guitar next to me and I looked Nicole dead in the eyes. “I have never had sex with a guy.”
Nicole and I sat there in silence. Everything is life-changing with her; everything is constant drama with her. I love her more than anything, and Wednesday of last week she listened to me for the first time. Wednesday of last week, she stood up and walked out of her favorite café, leaving me behind for the last time.

jennvondutch
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RE: Helping a Close Friend - 6/1

Postby jennvondutch » Sat Jun 05, 2010 5:16 pm

The phone rang. Once, then twice. Karen never answered on the first ring, even if she was standing next to the telephone. She waited.
There was a high-pitched howling coming from the other end. It was her childhood best friend. Her current best friend.

“Calm down, Suzi. I don’t know what you’re saying when you shriek like that.”
“I ain’t shriekin’”
“That was a shriek.”
“Was it?”
“It was.”

A noisy breath in, followed by a heaving breath out covered up the sound of static on the telephone line.

“It’s Lyle. He’s been cheatin’ on me, Karen. I just know it.”

Karen sucked in a breath. Hard. She was glad Suzi couldn’t see her right now.

“What makes you say that.”
“I can see it. It’s in his eyes. In his face. It’s everywhere. I think I can feel it.”

Karen sighs. She’s relieved. She sort of chuckles.

“Come on, Suze. Don’t be like that. Paranoid, I mean. It’s not like you’ve found a pair of some other lady’s panties in the back seat of his ol’ dodge.”

She almost adds “Have you?” but catches herself.

“Nah. He’s too damn sneaky for that. I know this man. You do too. Remember in high school, how well he’d cover up those parties he had at his mama’s house? There weren’t so much as a tab from a beer can lyin’ around, come Monday. He knows to cover his tracks. He’s good at it.”

Karen did remember. Suzi was right, Lyle did know how to cover his tracks. Karen wasn’t quite as clever, and she knew it too.

“Oh, Karen. What am I gonna do?”
“Suzi, stop it. You’re just being paranoid.”
“Ya sure?”
“I’m sure.”

Pause.

"So I should just do nothin'?"
"That's what I'm telling you."
“Will you keep an eye on him for me?”

“I will.” Karen responded truthfully.

“Thanks Karen.”
“No problem, Suze.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”

Karen gently set the telephone back into the receiver. She walked out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the bedroom. She pulled off her morning coat and tumbled into bed.

“I should head home now, shouldn’t I?” Lyle whispered as he pulled Karen’s body close to his.
“Yeah. She’s getting worried.”

He ran his fingers through her curls and gently kissed her forehead. Then he turned away and swung his feet out of the bed. He began pulling on the worn jeans that had spent their afternoon in a heap on the floor. Before walking out, he turned and looked at Karen, lying on the bed with a pillow over her face.

“Goodnight Karen.”
“Goodnight.”

lottie1955
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RE: Helping a Close Friend - 6/1

Postby lottie1955 » Sat Jun 05, 2010 5:25 pm

     My best friend Ashley had called and begged for an early morning meeting. She convinced me to get out of bed early on a Saturday morning. This had better be good. She was babbling on the phone about having to make a life-altering decision and needing my advice. We are stressed out, overworked, and struggling to get through college. What could be that important?
   

     She breezed into the coffee shop and hurriedly sat down at my table. I looked at her flushed face and fear overwhelmed me. Is she ill? No, that wasn’t it. She was smiling. My mind was on overdrive wondering what was so important to her.
    

     “Amanda, I am so glad you could make it.” She asked the waitress to bring coffee. There was an unknown sparkle in her eyes. What was she up to? The suspense was killing me.
    

     “Alright Ashley, what is going on? You called and dropped a bomb that you need my help to make a decision, but couldn’t go into details on the phone.” I tried to remain calm as the waitress served her coffee. She was acting very strange and mysterious.
    

     “Hold on, give me a chance to catch my breath.” She sat back in her chair, picked up her coffee cup and sipped the hot brew cautiously. She sat quietly for a moment and finally put down her coffee cup. She looked like a cat that swallowed the canary.
    

     “Hear me out. Don’t interrupt until I have finished my announcement. Do you Promise?” She waited anxiously for my answer.
    

     “Stop playing games and say what you came to say.” My voice was a little loud and high pitched as I sat back in the chair with my arms crossed. I was at the end of my patience and ready to strangle her.

     “Mrs. Johnson asked me to be a surrogate mother. We met last week and she asked me if I would consider carrying her child. Of course, I would have to be impregnated with her husband’s seed. She is even willing to pay for my last two years of college. Amanda, I want your advice on this. You are my best friend and we have always shared everything.”

     “Amanda? Are you okay? I know this is a shock, but I really need your input. You are the only person I have confided in.”

     I tried not to appear shocked, but have never been able to hide my feelings. My face had to be a picture of unbelief, maybe disgust and bewilderment. I just sat there, waiting for her to laugh and go on. She didn’t. She just looked at me with those big wide brown eyes.


     “This is a joke, right? This is not funny Ashley. I don’t believe this. I got out of bed to hear this weird announce. I am not amused.” I knew my voice was loud and customers were watching, but I was having trouble controlling my emotions.

     “This is no joke. You know how bad Mrs. Johnson wants a baby. She helped us when we started college. She bought our books for the first quarter. She knows our parents and is always ready to help others in the neighborhood. I am honored that she would choose me to carry their child.” Ashley narrowed her eyes and stared back at Amanda.

     “You are serious?” Ashley nodded.

     “Okay. I know Mrs. Johnson is a fantastic person and her husband is a great guy, but you need to really consider what they are asking you to do. What about our parents? What will they think? How are you going to pull this off, going to school?” What about our friends? Have you forgotten about Mark? This is a bizarre choice for you to consider.” Amanda drilled her, hoping to break through and penetrate the fog in her brain and paint a picture of the consequences.

     “You don’t understand. I know it is a shock and totally unbelievable, but I feel this is the right thing to do, a good thing to do. I just wish you would be on board and support me. “Her eyes glistened with tears.

     “Listen to me very carefully. I want you to think about this, before rushing off to be impregnated and carry a child that you will give up at birth.” Amanda watched her struggle with her decision and all was quiet as they sat thinking about how her life would be changed. Maybe she had planted some seeds of doubt…….


B.D.
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RE: Helping a Close Friend - 6/1

Postby B.D. » Sun Jun 06, 2010 5:28 pm

"I simply don't know, it's as though the rug has been swept out from underneath me..."

"What exactly brought this about? I mean, it seems to me you were doing just fine up until this very moment."

"It was the dream I had two nights ago, I am simply incapable of shaking myself loose of it. There was that little girl...her, her hair just caked in blood and matted to her head like someone had ironed it onto her cheeks. Her eyes, that was the worst. Hopeless."

"Look, it was only a dream, that is no reason to leave your job, sell this house...for Christ sake you're gonna leave the Goddamn country because of this...this fictitious little girl!"

"I...I don't know how to explain this, and I'm certainly not going to feign attempting to convince you. She may have come to me in a dream, but that does not mean I can ignore the enormity of her hopelessness."

"Her hopelessness? She is not real Jim, she is a dream figure, nothing else."

"But she is."

theSkilled
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RE: Helping a Close Friend - 6/1

Postby theSkilled » Sun Jun 20, 2010 4:26 pm

I love Perry to death, but I hate him and hope he dies. Perry is one crazy dude, always standing on street corners begging for cash, prancing around with 'End of the Word' signs strapped to his back, and he hasn't been shot yet. You'd think because he owes so many people things that one of them would just get rid of him. Perry is like an annoying little brother, except Perry is fifty and my neighbor.
Mr. Perry Simon is crazy. That is what Mum says. I'm only seven but I know right from wrong. What Perry does is just plain wrong. Especially in the streets of Seattle. Mum says if Perry even approaches me I need to say, "I have to run, Mr. Simon." I'm not even suppose to make eye contact. But I've been doing it all wrong. Every morning I give Perry I nickel and he gives me a tip. Once Perry said, "Watch out for flying chickens." That was impossible, chickens can't fly, but that night Mum made chicken strips and tripped, sending them flying. When it hit the floor my dog ran over to eat it and I picked it up just in time, saving dinner for me and my baby sister. The next day I have Perry I dollar.
My Mum also says to never call adults by their first name. Perry told me that if I call him anything but Perry he'd follow me home one day and tell my Mum what I've been doing. The next day I gave Perry a penny to punish him.
Yesterday, however, when I passed Perry he looked scared. He whispered something in my ear and then told me to run home any think about it. So here I am, sitting on my bed upside-down with my 'thinking face'. What does 'America's Most Wanted' mean?

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