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Sometimes, Believe
Chapter 1.
Silly, silly girl. Did you think your problems wouldn't return? How utterly foolish to utter such a foolish thought. Everything is on a repeated cycle of content and despair, and nothing is going to halt that vicious repetitiveness. You're right to think that the world doesn't owe you anything—it's the most truthful realization you've come to—but does that mean anyone owes you a better life? What about that kid on the corner, homeless and abandoned, no one owes him anything either. No matter how sad your life is, this world doesn't owe you shit.
It's pathetic, you're sitting there musing on a better life, but in reality you are helpless. Nothing in this intricate world is of your control, Greta Gallagher. Why I have to watch your every downfall is something I'll never know.
Greta, your story is something I never wanted to witness outside a teenage drama that sugarcoats the plot until it ceases to be edible. Innocence weaves itself into your pleading emerald eyes, but the cynicism had made you hard as diamonds. Even through the hardest of exteriors, the inside is weak, it thrives on the praise of external forces which don't seem to saturate through the surface anymore. Gallagher, though you crave attention, you're never going to get enough. For this simple virtue, I pity you deeply.
You can't breathe Greta? Is this true? It's just an illusion, along with everything else, one day the world is going to be yours.
How'd I ever get paired to watch over Greta? She's the ultimate fate of the globe one of these days and I can barely keep from constantly criticizing her every move. Her every statement. Her countless mistakes. I cannot count the number of times she stares blankly into these unforgiving cinderblocks in hopes of finding something of herself. If this is the future than the future isn't the light at the end of the tunnel.
How can she pull it together? Right now, I am literally ripping my hair from the sockets. Greta Gallagher, this is not the plan, this is not how it's supposed to happen. Blood's trickling down the young girl's legs and the crimson screams of a new control Greta has over herself.
My heart skips, beating unevenly in my chest, Greta why? My hands itch and my fingers begin to move but they stop mid air. I can't stop what has already happened. This has to happen for whatever happens next. Greta is absolutely unpredictable, though. She's the gusts of wind in the hurricane. She's the wild card in Uno. Greta is Boardwalk and Park Place but unattainable once purchased from the prideful owner.
This pessimistic, disorientated, impulsive fifteen year old is keeping me on my tip toes.
It's pathetic, you're sitting there musing on a better life, but in reality you are helpless. Nothing in this intricate world is of your control, Greta Gallagher. Why I have to watch your every downfall is something I'll never know.
Greta, your story is something I never wanted to witness outside a teenage drama that sugarcoats the plot until it ceases to be edible. Innocence weaves itself into your pleading emerald eyes, but the cynicism had made you hard as diamonds. Even through the hardest of exteriors, the inside is weak, it thrives on the praise of external forces which don't seem to saturate through the surface anymore. Gallagher, though you crave attention, you're never going to get enough. For this simple virtue, I pity you deeply.
You can't breathe Greta? Is this true? It's just an illusion, along with everything else, one day the world is going to be yours.
How'd I ever get paired to watch over Greta? She's the ultimate fate of the globe one of these days and I can barely keep from constantly criticizing her every move. Her every statement. Her countless mistakes. I cannot count the number of times she stares blankly into these unforgiving cinderblocks in hopes of finding something of herself. If this is the future than the future isn't the light at the end of the tunnel.
How can she pull it together? Right now, I am literally ripping my hair from the sockets. Greta Gallagher, this is not the plan, this is not how it's supposed to happen. Blood's trickling down the young girl's legs and the crimson screams of a new control Greta has over herself.
My heart skips, beating unevenly in my chest, Greta why? My hands itch and my fingers begin to move but they stop mid air. I can't stop what has already happened. This has to happen for whatever happens next. Greta is absolutely unpredictable, though. She's the gusts of wind in the hurricane. She's the wild card in Uno. Greta is Boardwalk and Park Place but unattainable once purchased from the prideful owner.
This pessimistic, disorientated, impulsive fifteen year old is keeping me on my tip toes.