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Author: Girl Writer

I am a creative writer and coder. This whole website is just a place for me to experiment. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please email me at: Writer@GirlWriter.com.
036

036

Even when I told you I did not like the city, you did not believe me, because all the nitty-gritty of that city is what you like about it. You said that it’s pretty, and that if I had any pity left in me I would go and see this city of yours. So I go.

035

035

I stare at your backpack, hoping for change. It’s a strange feeling when that happens, when you know that someone will come back but they just haven’t. Not yet. No, but they might. I suppose they have to if they’re ever going to get work done. But do they even want to? Maybe they left their backpack alone because they knew what it was and what it meant: school commitment grades and they didn’t want any of that. Not yet, anyway. But some day…

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034

034

There is a cliche that would be easy to say: Reading is an adventure. But it’s so much more than a park tour or a fictional lecture. It’s swimming, it’s baseball, it’s an old oak, 30 feet tall that no one intends to cut down. It’s an orange feather, it’s curl-up blanket weather, it’s New York City downtown. Reading is broken chalk, a midnight walk, and a pair of sole-worn shoes, left over chip cheese dust, forgotten pizza crust– a…

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Museum Misunderstandings

Museum Misunderstandings

Standing in the Natural History museum, two people (Person A and Person B) are viewing different displays. Nearby, a large group of students are chattering, filling out papers for school, and pointing at different displays. A: Did you see that– B: Dinosaur? Yeah, there’re a lot. A: They’re a lot of what? B: A lot of them. A: I meant the whale. B: Which wall? A: There’s only one. B: How’s that possible? A: It was born, I guess. B:…

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Spring

Spring

I dress like it’s Spring every day. I dress in the anticipation of the flowers blooming and the sun staying up for a little bit too long. I would want everyone to dress this way, but at the same time, it feels like I’m a Spring flower in a world of black winterberries. I feel like I’m blooming in a world without water. I’ll be fine.

Everything

Everything

What if everything you’ve ever read was something that was secretly about you? Every news article, email, ad, all aiming towards you and intended to be about you. What if the person next to you, supposedly just typing on their keyboard, is writing about you, hoping that you’ll read it? What if I’m writing about you, hoping that you’ll accidentally look over my shoulder and notice? I’m just hoping that you’ll just look over and say, “Wow, what great writing!”…

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033

033

Below the universe, there is so much more to see.   But, alas, she lies on her back, her arms stretched, her dress a puddle of fabric. She’s trying to be someone she’s not: a persona too far-fetched.   She can not tell the constellations apart, but nonetheless gives stories to the stars she keeps in her mind and feels in her heart. She has thoughts, too, like what if the stars are just cars’   headlights? She does not…

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Night Swimmer

Night Swimmer

By now, I bet he’s dead. At least, I hope he’s dead. The man who seasoned my cups of tea with garlic and who left his paychecks at the piano– yeah, I hope he’s dead. I was getting sick of his knit white turtlenecks stained with what I hoped was ketchup and his little purple Fiat stained with the same color on the ceiling… But at that point, I think he was sick of it too. I hope he’s dead….

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Unfocus

Unfocus

No matter how much glass is in front of my face, it’s all still so unfocused. I’m an unframed, unglassed pair of eyes walking around a bunch of blobs. How many leaves are on that tree? Who knows? But light, that’s the true wonder. Small orbs of light that float in front of my face, like magic, like their own suns without galaxies to compliment them. Luckily, they have me. I watch them for hours before leaving, sitting on splintering wood…

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031

031

I see life in book endings. from sand beach weddings to dragon defeats, where not even fire can heat an emotion so hot as to have a clue about what it means. But in all honestly, I don’t believe in those book sales for new books. There are older ones, colder ones, sitting on the back of shelves. They’re only 25 cents inside your local bookstore where they hide the diamonds in the rough to see who’s tough enough to…

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Reach

Reach

I don’t usually question things. Usually. Because usually, I’m sitting at home. Alone. With my dishwasher screaming in one room and my washing machine thundering in the other. With the sunlight blinding me and my chair binding me, I have no reason to leave my computer screen for “the great outdoors”– what’s so great about it anyway? Just another high-res screen-saver with movingClouds.gif? Oh, and the sun coincides with the time. That’s nice. Not. Worth it, anyway. I can put…

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030

030

I don’t want you per se. Because each and every day you come back and talk about her. No, no, I don’t want you, I want the idea of you, and all your compassion. I’d like to fashion someone else out of the likes of you. Take your honesty and bravery, leave everything unsavory, and make a new person. One with less baggage and who’s less of a challenge to handle. That’s what I want exactly. Not you, per se, but someone…

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Strange World

Strange World

It’s a strange world when darkness is merely the absence of light. With all this technology, the strangeness will not be sitting under man-made lighting, but rather sitting in actual darkness, the only natural light, unfiltered. And there will be streetlights on every street, road, and avenue in America. In Europe, in the entirety of the world, a strange place to live. A place full of television show supplements and old re-runs that no one has actually seen. And yet…

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029

029

If you could hold a color say aquamarine, how heavy would it be? And for how much could you buy a tangerine? Because someone with your power must own their own family tower, right? But then let’s say you’re color blind, and everything you knew you had to leave behind. Now, be kind, do you still like aquamarine? Even in a sun beam is it still an undersea blue? A green too true? Because this is not just about your…

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028

028

I left you outside Paris, just outside of pari dise, just outside of the grasp on the clasp of the city of light. There was nowhere for you to go, and I did not expect you to leave, not outside France, not without a chance that you might come back to me.

027

027

I  change my name every time I go to Starbucks, the letters constantly shifting in my head, my mind twists and is in constant flux: my imagination is a nation of the undead. The green stalks from the brown below push themselves through coffee tops, reaching for something in the undertow of last season’s dead crops. A cardboard cover hides the stars and is branded with some other name as it sits in its holder in my cars putting my certificate…

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026

026

Because it’s no soap, radio a playbill for a music show with top hat and a plaid bow on Broadway two years ago. There’re two bears and a tiger, three ears and a liar, with no water in a forest fire, who were too young to retire. Snow in the Sahara desert, too-long short sleeve button up t-shirt, with not enough people to divert and look away from the extrovert. It was a yellow canary in the platoon with a cup of tea in the afternoon…

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