Newww

So new blog. The new blog is the same name as this on used to be.. Wanted to redesign some stuff but i like this format so im keeping it for the older stuff/ :)

Link here: silenceofexpression.blogspot.com
Thanks :)

IMMM BAACKKKKKK

As he crawls out of the closet he was apparently trapped in for months at a time, Ben realized he is a writer and other people exist and hes not quite positive hows he been alive without food and water for months and never went the bathroom BUT NO MATTER. I have made my return and not kiddingly like the other times IM REALLY GONNA do it. Ok doubt me I hear the laughter and jokes. I am serious this time though. Shutup its going to happen. Now that were done having a conversation down to business.

Ill bring ya up to speed on my life. I grew, im like 6'5" now. Once I started being dedicated to the gym (I signed up for the gym for those who don't know this) I will basically be the incredible hulk.. just not green, thats not really my color. Im into the blue thing. My eyes are blue for those who also lacked that knowledge. I mean like super blue, I flaunt them to pick up women. Ahh, rather young ladies. As woman sounds older and im not into cougars. Let see Im not a part time electrician apprentice as well as a part time lamestop (gamestop for those who dont get the reference) game advisor and a full time voluntary preacher. Woo Im fancy huh? Yes Life is the grandest of the grand.

My writing. I haven't touched a pad of paper of keyboard with the intention of documenting anything since my last post and even that was whimsical and spur of the moment. (like me running off to grab a mountain dew at this second cause I am thirsty!.. hold that thought....OK I have returned) I still don't believe in spell checking as Im sure ive made lots of mistakes already. So For the first few weeks I will probably not be as awesome as I could be, but I will warm up and return to that mediocre writer I was as child. I bring emotion and tears to your eyes. So all I can really say is enjoy folks. Strap on a seatbelt and put on some low deep bassy techno because I personally believe it should be being played in the background at all times.

~BMW (what initials almost are)
~BMH (Benjamin to the Matthew to the Hurley)

Bam!

Guess whos back back back, back again gain gain. I am back back back go tell a friend. Yooooo. Man I have not written anything. Atleast anything worth reading in a longggggggggg time. I do apologize for my lack of effort. Life truly gets in the way of everything!!

To tell you this isn't true.. well it would be a lie. Roughly seven years ago I broke the first bone I ever broke in my body. It all satrted one weekend my uncle came up to my grandparents place in Gunstock New Hampshire. So he bring up his mini bike.. pocket bike some call it. I call it the demonized toy from the depths of a firey pit, but besides the point, he bring it up and this time im not the 6'5" behometh I am now and actually fit on the thing. Not even kidding ten seconds after he takes it out he hops on to ride up the hill to the little culdacec at the top and then circle around and come back. Jokingly as a high-spirited excited to see his uncle twelve year old I chase him (with no hope of ever catching him) about halfway up the hill. He starts to come back down the hill but like right behind me maybe fifteen feet or so. Once again being the stupid twelve year old I was, I ran over to the other side of the road, ofcourse wonderfully timed as he did the same so he wouldn't hit me. This led to him yes, hitting me. Less of a hit and more of a run over the back of my left foot breaking the third metatarsul bone in my left foot. For those of you that dont know, its the middle toe, like the first bone inside the foot where the toe ends and badly spraining my ankle and brusing another bone.

At the time of the hit, none of the information I just told you was known. I instantly tried to stand up and did fine, for about thrity milliseconds then fell back down and cue the waterworks. My dad came running out cause he does acutally love me popular to contrary belief and he carries me inside. I sit on the couch and mow down some much needed doritos watching spongebob, remember I was twelve at the time so that entertained me... yes yes it still does now. The pain wasn't aleviating and after hopping on one foot to pee I was going to have to go to the *gulp* hospital. It was the most seemless hospital experience ever. They just took some x-rays, gave me some crutches, a BUTLOAD of ace bandage to keep it tight and told me to visit an orthopedic place to get it casted it up and such.

This began my long road to recovery. I thought it couldnt get any worse but surely, it did. Ironically during one of my visits to the orthopedic place they had a fire alarm go off and I hobbled out of the building with crutches, it was all very comedic. The worst part by far though was when the set the bone. They stuck me in this room with one of those beds that are slightly classier than your basic doctor has. It had a little bit of cushion to it thank god. They put me on this bed and in and all around the broken bone they injected seven maybe eight shots of novicaine. Oh, but it gets worse. They proceed to grab the broken toe and hold my entire leg in the hair for ten minutes to get the bone to pull out. I was forced into tears from the pain I was going through. It was by and far the worst I've ever experienced in my life. In the end though everything healed fine and now peculiarly enough my left foot is bigger than my right go figure. Anyways thats my long story about my first and only broken bone.

Hope you enjoyed and yeah I'll get back into my sappy love writing soon enough. I've actually done quite a bit of handwriting so I'll type of that and anyone who still reads or happens to fall upon this can read. Have a good day everybody. NIGHT!

been awhile

so it's been awhile since I've been around but I got some stuff backed so expect lots in the near future

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Have You Ever?

Ever felt lonely in a group of people,
I have.
Ever wanna run away from everything,
I have.
Ever get lost in the middle of Manhattan,
I have.

What about you?

-Ben

Elevator of Life

Life sometimes like to knock at your door with a little rat-a-tat-tat just to make sure your still there, maybe it just trips you up or slams the door open in your face. Sometimes you make a small mistake, sometimes its big. But like a rollercoaster (or an elevator for that matter) life goes up and down and up and down. Very very few times in life does it drop from the top story out of control with no rhyme or reason. But sure enough that does happen. Thankfully roller coasters are designed to do that, unfortunately elevators just kill you, but we're not discussing life ending mistakes. Thats more like getting attacked by a falcon in flight. Just avoid it and don't kill yourself.

So elevators. Do you normally start on the Eleventh floor? Well, no, atleast in my experience no. I suppose if you helicoptered onto a roof you could essentially start on the Eleventh floor, but hey if you can afford a helicopter your probably not making too many mistakes. Anyways, normal people start on the bottom floor of life, some sadly start in the basement or underground garage, some don't even make it inside to get the elevator, so consider yourslef lucky to be in this journey we call the elevator of life. You slowly progress to the 2nd floor, then the 3rd, 4th, 5th and so on and so forth. Life has its troubles sometimes you drop from 5 to 3. sometimes back to 2, but usually the avoidance of the 1st floor is possible. Not always easy but managable. So as you go through life think about this. You started with nothing, you were a homeless, emotionless, very wet and disgusting baby. You were nurtured, you grew, and you got the elevator. So no matter how bad life gets, you can never do worse than being back where you started.

Ok so this was totally going in another direction, but I'm not quite sure what that was, so enjoy what is there for now!

More stuff to come, PLUS the exciting alternate (original, recently found, ending to "Decisions" I like the old one WAYYY better, with a few edits ofcourse)

So look around and leave comments, concerns, questions about my heritage. All taken and appreciated.

-Ben

Sunset

You can hear the waves crashing in the distance. The quiet and all of the sudden loud as it bounces of the rock hundreds off feet below. As dusk hits your just sitting there right on the edge with your legs dangling. The thoughts of the girl you love being sick and refusing to let you stay to take care of her roam through your head. The solemn bike ride to the top of the mountain was fueled with sadness of not having her with you and the emptiness and void that's just prevalently flowing and mocking you in the air. You ride by two squirrels chasing each other in the woods. While you sit on the edge, the clouds to chase each other to some unknown destination and the waves become intertwined and two become one. Loneliness overwhelms you and climbs into your every pore and every fiber of your being. Just when the right thing seems to be just to fall of the edge, you see it. The brilliant rays of color. The shimmering orange in the clouds The pentrating red like a dancing fire. The yellow still peaking through as the moon chases the sun away. The loneliness turns into joy to be alive and well. The sadness becomes hope and faith in things unknown. Just when the world seems perfect suddenly a stir comes about from the woods behind. Ready to flee you try to hide yourself in the open air to no avail. Suddenly, out of the brush she pops out. Having felt better and knowing where'd you be she came. She sits down on your right and snuggles into your arms. You feel a sense of perfection, the moment and the clarity of the world all right there. The sun sets and slowly the colors fade and darkness embraces you. But to you it doesn't matter, because you have her and to you, well she is nothing short of a beautiful sunset.

Six Flags

Low and behold I am still alive. I appreciate all the concerned emails though (cricket, cricket). So Last monday i went to six flags in Springfield Mass. Town of Agawam to be exact. Now with the exception of the Yankee Cannonball in Canobie Lake Park (a 50 mph wooden death structure they call a rollercoaster) I'd never ridden anything, well big or not wooden. So Six Flags has this thing called Bizarro, previously Superman. Its really stinkin' huge. Exact dimension's could find are a 221 foot drop and reaching a peak of about 77 mph, maybe a little more. The track is pretty long to. They really make the most of the speed.

So now imagine a goofy, tall and petrified of roller coasters seventeen year old boy because he was a wimp and never did them before and you got me. I'm in line quite literally paralyzed with fear trying to joke around but absolutely terrified. Even typing this I can remember that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach that literally makes you wanna scream like a school girl and run away. But I manned up and did it. They strap you down so your hands are free. Yes, I said free to move around. even high five your ride buddy. So the ride starts. They begin with this epic battle scene of bizarro fighting superman or some demonized and twisted scenario the god-awful creators of this contraption think it is. Thankfully the ride didn't click, click, click all the way up and suddenly there's a hugh explosion and BOOM! your at the top of the coaster. Your overlooking every other ride, every person, at that exact moment you peak before your 200+ foot drop, you are the skyline. Then suddenly swoosh! you go down, but it doesn't just feel like down because of the craziness of the drop and before the wheels totally catch the track after the peak you are quite literally going more than 90 degrees downwards, or so you think. Then you go down..and down...and down..and just when your about to cry from the sheer g-forces ripping your skin from your body and detaching your brain from your skull and every pulse and breath takes hours not seconds and adrenaline pounds through your body I swear right there you can reach Nirvana. But, you do eventually reach the bottom to guess what? be catapulted up into a second jawdropping drop. The ride then throws you into massive curves, past a device that shoots flames up into your face (not literllay ofcourse) and then into a tunnel of steam just before slamming on the brakes and asking you to come back and do it again. It was the most amazing and exhilarting and terrifying experience of my life that I cannot wait to do again.

So then we went over to the Batman coaster which is much smaller in comparison but it goes upsidedown. And I was almost more nervous for this than Bizarro. So we get in line, go through, yadda yadda yadda. It actually kinda cool the seat is, except they always push your harness in just tight enough that its not comfy. So the conductor, button pushing guy or whatever he's called go BBAAWWOOOP! and off you go to climb again. Now I can only describe the first about 10 seconds of this ride cause its all I process in my brain. But you hit the peak and drop down to just a tough before fwoom you drop into a sweeping left hand bend and downwards into a massive loop. This was my first loop and gosh darn I LOVE GOING UPSIDEDOWN The rest of it is just spins and corskscrews and pure amazingness. . I enjoyed this ride sooooo much more than Bizarro and even went back on it again where I got the front row and had possibly the most fun ever in my life.

We hit up the Mind Eraser after the Batman though and that was just a demonized harness not designed for guys at all. It was pretty fun but not my favorite. All in all it was one of the funnest days in my life. I learned I love rollercoasters and love going upsidedown even more and can't wait to go back. I highly recommend for everyone to atleast try them before you judge them.

Have a Good One!
-Ben

Burdened With Nothing

I've reached this solid point where I just really don't care about what happens to me (mostly in school) anymore. My brain is telling me to keep going but I somehow hit override and screwed it up. There's a possibility my excessive amount television watching is a problem but no matter. It's not like I need a tv. I'd be better off with a summer. What I really need is a perfect summer. To relax, rejuvenate and just be with my friends, I don't need to nonsensical stresses that are related with school. So much bladity bloop about college and your future and what you do now affects your whole life. Bull crap! If I run into the kitchen downstairs and eat a kit kat bar my future will not be affected (other than having to brush my teeth again...maybe) It's just this piece of garbage idea that society thrusts upon us to do things. One of these in the seemingly mandatory life of a kid is to go to college or the crappy ol' war we have no point in fighting in. I'm not going to college, thats why i went to a trade school so I can work and enjoy life and not be pounded down under books and projects and essays of another 4 years of school I can barely stand now.

Have a good one people.
-Ben

So White The Head High Snow

Daniel Castro (AKA) An extraordinary writer with a key sence for detail and and innate prespective.

But for their voices
The herons would disappear
The morning snow.
-Kaga no Chio

“How high is the snow?” she leaned over him on the bed, stretching to see out the window, which was frosted in blown white like thick cobwebs across the glass.
“I don’t know. On the news they said three feet.”
“The news.” She rested her chin on his chest, “The news is always wrong.”
“They predicted about three.”
“So we’ll either get six inches or twelve feet.” She dug in her chin.
“Is that how it works?”
“I dunno. Look out the window, hun. I can’t see from here.” He could feel the movements of her jaw, up and down as she spoke, and balanced perfectly over his heart.
“I want you to make me a snow angel,” she said, at this point kicking him by his side with both feet. Hank drifted out of bed like an avalanche, with thundering cracks, still heavy with sleep. His bare feet padded against the cold hardwood floor, each toe an icicle, as he made his way to the window. He winced as the cold went up his leg, and snapped like frozen branches.
“It looks deep enough for snow angels.”
“How deep? You need a foot or two to make a quality snow angel.”
“I don’t know. Probably a good foot or two.”
“You need four good feet. Two feet to get there. Two to sink in.”
Hank cracked a smile, “We have at least three and a half good feet between us.”
“Good.” She jumped up on the bed, sitting over her knees and smiling in his shirt. “Good. Good. Good.”
“How old are you?” Hank sat at the edge of the bed, looking.
“I don’t know. I’m as old as the snow is new. Cold on your tongue.” She walked on her knees over to him, and kissed him on the side of his mouth.
“You missed, kiddo.”
“You need to brush your teeth, stinky.” Her eyes were snow globes, with little flakes of light swept around, a nor’easter circling tiny irises. Hank grabbed her arms, smiled mercilessly, and kissed her, meanly.
“Eeeeewwww!” She squealed playfully. “Lemme-go, lemme-go!” He licked her nose and then released her, standing up to look out the window again.
“You do taste like snow.” He stared out past the single dogwood tree in the yard, past the frozen garden mounded white like a whitewashed cemetery, down the street where the plow truck pushed the snow into wet rubble for the morning traffic, past that old farm house on the right where the tree nursery still slept with all the young pines in snowy blankets, past the false horizon and the tree-line all in white and motionless. Everything and everyone motionless as he stood.
“You taste like old person.” She reached her arms from behind him, hugging his chest, and feeling him breathe, slowly. “But I guess you can’t brush that away.”
“Maybe. But I can shake it off.”
He wrested out of her grasp, but then she held him tighter.
“Careful,” she said, “You’ll shake the young off you, too.”
And then, he thought, she felt like Catherine did in the wintertime. With her long hands and cold fingers. But where Catherine had held him like a lover, to keep warm, this girl held on to him like a kid hangs around their parent’s ankles, always as tightly as she could, as if along for the ride. These subtleties were frigid reminders, and he’d almost rather no one, to someone close. He had met his wife at the pond when they were young, seen her skating backwards in big open circles over the ice. Her eyes were shut and her mouth closed, lips tight, and it was as if she had sleepwalked all the way there, and in her dreams she was dancing with someone dear to her. She was one of many very pretty girls he had seen in his lifetime, but perhaps it was because she moved with some unsettling grace, some angelic precision across the cloudscape of heaven, as though still through the white snow falling in petals, and collecting wet on his face, that Hank could not resist taking her picture.
“Isn’t everything so pretty with snow on it?” the girl asked, with her head resting against his back, and swaying.
“It is.” He answered. “It always is.”
“Every year I think it gets prettier. The first snow. The way it covers over everything. But I do hate it eventually. It gets tiresome. Sometimes I get afraid that one winter it just won’t be pretty anymore. It’ll just be cold, and tiresome.”
“Is it pretty now? It’s all that matters, really. If it’s pretty now.”
“It’s pretty now.” He couldn’t tell if she was smiling or not when she said it. “Isn’t it amazing how each and every snowflake is different. Every single one of those little tiny flakes of snow is com-plete-ly unique. And it’s been that way forever.” She kissed him, “Like you.”
He shook his head, and moved away from her.
“It all melts eventually.”
She brought herself against him again.
“You don’t seem so old. Not as old as you say. Not as old as the pictures.”
“I’m just as old as the pictures. I’m as old as the snow is new.”
She ran her fingers through his hair, sweeping it around.
“How long has your hair been white?”
“A long time.”
“Was it born white? I mean, were you born with it white?”
“It started to turn when I was about thirty.”
“That’s a horrible way to put it.” She fell back on the bed and reached out her arms and legs, moving in scissors over the white sheets and smiling. “Started to turn. Like as if you were an old fish.”
“You said it yourself that I stink.” He walked over to the bed and stood between her feet, and she closed them on his knees.
“You do. You’re a big old stinky fish.”
“And you’re an angel, kiddo.”
Catherine had this way of bobbing her head with a close-lipped smile and steady eyes, and she would do it whenever she was particularly proud of something. The girl mimicked the movement beautifully. She had only seen her in photos.
“Take my picture.” She kicked him away. “Go get your camera.”
“No. I don’t… not now.”
“C’mon…honey…” she whined, the pitch of the wind through cracked windows.
“I don’t have any film. I don’t think…”
“You never take pictures anymore. I don’t think probably once I’ve seen you take a picture.”
“I’ve taken your picture before.”
“Like really take it.”
“I have.”
“No. You’ve taken a picture of me. You’ve never taken my picture.”
“I don’t…” Hank sighed now. His sigh was older than her. “Why does it matter?”
“I like how I am on the bed. I think I’d look pretty right now, in a photo.”
She swept her arms up and down in the white sheets, her body spreading little hills around her, making a snow angel on the bed.
“You always look pretty.” He nudged her foot with his knee. She pulled it away.
“Why don’t you ever take my picture!” she sat up now, her eyes straight on him. “You’ve got pictures all over the walls. Beautiful pictures. Of your family, your kids, your friends. That you took.”
“They’re just photos...”
“No. They’re not just… you’re like…,” she sighed, terribly. “How long have I been here? How long have we been together? And I’m not a fixture yet. I’m not anywhere on those walls, in those frames. Why not?”
“Why are we doing this now?”
“Because it’s driving me crazy!” she said, “Because I live in this house. And I feel like it’s haunted. I’ve seen those photos of your wife, all in black and white. With her just frozen in light and shadows. And the way you look at them, like she’s been preserved in ice somewhere. I want you to do that to me, Hank. I wanna live forever in one of your pictures, in ice like that! I want you to make me a snow angel.”
“No,” he said. Picturing Catherine, in similar light and this same shadow, composed in frames on the wall of the staircase, crystallized in ice,and under all that snow, under all those good feet.
“Why not?” she cried, and he started to turn away towards the window again, in the silence of everything, and watched the snow fall over the tall old trees bending from the weight on every bough, crowned in white, and growing tired.
“It hasn’t been snowing that long,” he said, rubbing his finger, just over the knuckle, where the bone felt coldest. “But it’s not pretty anymore.”

WEEKS later, she was gone, and the house was covered in deep snow. Hank woke up next to a girl, who ran her fingers through his white hair, and smiled. She kissed him on his mouth, and stared at his face, smiling slightly. She was ghostly pale, and except for her freckles, two blue eyes, and thin rosy lips, she disappeared in the bleach of white sheets.
“I could stay in this bed forever,” she said.
Hank closed his eyes.


Hope you enjoyed it, I'll do my best to continue the updating.
-Ben

So, Here's The Deal.

Hey Readers, browsers and desperate women in need of love. First off I wanted to apologize for the depressing and gayly emotional writing as of late. Some stuff has been going down and well yeah. But ignoring that I have some exciting news for some, dreadful horror for others. We have a new, well a one time, addition to my writing staff (me and another dude, well now) His name is Preston, he actually wrote a post like months ago then was off on some wild adventure in Florida, but now he is back and is re-opening the zoo as we say. Hopefully he can make you laugh, cry or or moan in sheer pleasure.
Secondly I''m gonna be writing alot of like first chapter sorta stuff, so feedback would make you the coolest people ever. I'm also trying to quadruple spell check cause that has been a re occuring problem. Well anyways, look out for some new stuff.
Have A Good One!
-Ben

Blowing Up A Heart

This bloody thing called love. One stupid little irresponsible and lazy sixteen year old boy can't get this atrocious, hateful and unworthy love thing out of his tiny pea sized brain. He goes through day like an automatic train that goes in two stupid directions. One sends it careening full blast straight to an abysmal end day after day just to go back to where it started. His love for her is sorta like that, except it runs off track and it careens into a tree every time. The only time he ever felt true love, it inevitably would end up being nothing more than some stupid close friendship. His lays down and night and you know what he does? Yeah, he lets out so fresh souled tears from his eyes. He weeps like some pansy, and not the flower. He doesn't get rejuvenated by some cool thing in life because at the end he comes home to realize she doesn't love him back and probably never will. Then when he gets so beyond pissed and upset he writes some stupid blog post about some stupid non sense that doesn't even make sense and his friends leave comments like "awesome job" or "really cool" to humor him when on the inside their probably laughing at his pathetic and faggot life.

"Aint no car window rolled up enough to keep me from gettin' my keys"

My friend Dave locked his keys in his car this morning. I asked him if I could use his story (which was very vague because he never tell me details) and write about it. His exact words were "Heck yes you may". So here it is, with a few minor edits. Its actually more of an "inspired by" or "based on". Unfortunately he gave me the title too, I'm so sorry for that.

Why?

Why do I know so little about you, yet care more than anyone else?
Why do you pass me by without so much as a glance?
Why do my eyes not show my passion when you look at me?
Why can't I hug you and not shed a tear as I wave goodbye?
Why do I never know what your thinking but you can always read my mind?
Why do I have to pour my heart out to you?
Why does my world have to revolve around you?
Why do your pictures stand out, your hair glisten in the sun, your eyes burn into my soul, your body curve like snake?
And, why do I do stupid things, little they may be to try and impressive you?
Oh, Because I LOVE YOU!

Simple Eye

The earth is full of pain and relief, rough edges and smooth lines, deserts and oceans and all possible creation you could think of. With all this beautiful and outstanding creation before us, how can we not be content with what we have? We've seemingly gotten lost and stuck in a mindset of a want, need, get society. We try our best (some do) to limit ourselves by pretending we're content with what we have, but in reality this is just a facade. There will always be that lingering thought in the back of our minds about a new car, or just one more pair of shoes and then we always want whatever new electronic toy is out there. Theres so many factors making us "want" and its the media and manufacturers pushing and pushing to make you pay for their product or its your own buddies showing off their new BMW's and 54'' LCD T.V.'s. It's almost like life took a dump and out popped thousands of gizmos and gadgets for you to buy. Its ridiculous to be honest. So I'm going to paint two pictures and I think it's fairly obvious which is better.

If Only..

I sat in an worn wooden rocking chair. Slowly I began strumming the guitar. Chord after melodious chord I was making beautiful music. Then like an angel descending from heaven my lips crested to form words. My voice was said to "lullaby babies and sooth the wounded." Suddenly I was jostled awake and my vision started to come into view. I was not in a beautiful room playing melodies, but lying in my bed dreaming. I've begun to loathe these dreams because all they do is mock me. Ever since I was three I haven't been able to hear. Being deaf I never got the opportunity to play and instrument or have a voice. Its almost worse growing up being able to hear then suddenly being shut off from the world. 


Personally I believe thats how deaf people must feel. I can't imagine never hearing music or sounds.Just a thought to not mock someone when their talking with their hands. They live a life just as you do.


Good night everyone!

Too Young For This

To hear the words "I hope we can always be friends, but thats all we'll ever be...I'm so sorry" or "I've been thinking about it and I don't see anything happening between us in the future..I'm sorry". Its just a few words jumbled together to make a sentence. Given this is still a sentence that goes straight through the ribs and veins and pierces the deepest depths of your heart. I wish I could just forget them. Just move on and not worry about it because I'm young, feelings constantly changing, hormones will stop raging like a wild bull staring at a red cape and people mature to who they will be as adults. But I read into more than just the words. I read into the hearts and try to find out if it hurt them to say what they did or was it just another goodbye. I let the words linger and hide in my mind and moments, more often then I'd hope for, my heart sinks, my world turns into just a little bit darker shade of grey, and sometimes even tears break out. Not a wild sob but often just a single a tear or a watery eyed frown. Its natural human reaction to feel this way I say to myself, if it's true I don't know. I wish people would just stop saying sorry sometimes....

G'nite Readers.

Decisions

Just a little Something I wrote a long long time ago, in a galaxy far far away...

Decisions

I was only three years old when my house was burnt down. I was out sleeping over my grandparents so my parents could have a peaceful night alone. At least this is what I was told. My parents weren’t able to escape the blazing house in time. That was the night they passed away. No one could figure out what had led to the house being burnt down. The firefighters said it may have started from a lit candle, but I have my doubts. My name is Alex Green and this is my story.

If My Life Was An Action Movie.

The alarm goes off. The clock says 6:30. I have 15 more minutes to lay in bed and maybe even get some more sleep.Beep, Beep, Bee..I hit the alarm to end the snooze. I know I have 5 more minutes before I have to get up, be dressed, and waiting monotonously for the bus to come. I throw my lunch in a bag and walk, the same 200 foot path to the bus stop I do everyday. Something was different about today though and I felt it, the way the air flowed, the ground was shaky, something was brewing, something big.

Ideas and Creations: A Look Into My Mind

It was not but a few nights past that an idea came into my brain. An idea so radical, so purely exhilarating that I believe it must come to fruition (woohoo used my word of the week again) Let me bring you up to speed on the scenario where such an idea came from. I was sorting through more socks than any one family should own when I ended up throwing away many for being too small, holes in them, dirty and gross.

I thought to myself why not create the "PERFECT' sock. Slowly things were added to this sock, but this is my list as of now. A greater thickness, in the whole sock in general, also in the heel and slightly more in the toes where it always seems to rip/tear. They would be well ventilated as to decrease the amount of sweat accumulated and product testing  indicates the possibility of scented socks, yes I did just say scented socks. They would have my brand name logo (Listed) to be placed where I so desire. This sock is racist tho and available in all colors except yellow and white, so as to limit the dirtiness it can sustain. Also, a 2 year guarantee of any rips/tears from normal wear an tear (this means walking, not for use in a submarine although a wet sock is in development and not for use as a shoe. Basically wear shoes when you go outside you fool)

Have a good life, suckerrss