Writing 101, Day Seventeen: Your Personality on the Page


What are you scared of? Address one of your worst fears. If you’re up for a twist, write this post in a style that’s different from your own.

She was telling to stop being a child. Stop crying. Get on this right now or something would be waiting for me when we got home. but i was cry so hard. i didn’t want to go. i didn’t want to step on. it was going down and i couldn’t hold on. i was crying so loudly. i should stop. i know i should stop. people are watching. if she got embarrassed it would be worst for me. I need to stop crying right now. Stop right now. Stop right now! STOP RIGHT NOW! and the tears were still coming and I was breathing heavily. i couldn’t stop hiccuping. no. a man has seen me. What’s the matter? he didn’t know that he’d crucified me with his kindness. she’d seen, standing at the base of the escalator looking up at us. he waves at my mom. Is this your child? he’s asking her something that is about to change soon. she won’t want me after a stunt like this. he was holding my hand. Want to go to the elevator? i did. i do. i go with him. i think that maybe he’d be my new dad and i won’t have to go home with those people. i’d live a life so much better than i did, but there he was, my real father. he’d come to elevator and grabbed my hand. She’s not taking the elevator. She’s taking the escalator. i’m crying harder. my stomach is so painful right now. She’s afraid. they’re arguing and i’m dropping to the ground, my dad’s grip is too hard. i didn’t want to go. i didn’t want to go. i could run. i could run away. This is none of your buisness. and the man looked at me and frowned like the adults did when they knew they couldn’t do anything else. my dad looks down at me. he’s not upset. We’ll take the elevator. You’re mom would have killed me if i let you go with that man. and like that i was holding onto my dad tightly as we went down the elevator. and i didn’t mind that he was my dad.


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