Young Noah: Would you just stay with me?
Young Allie: Stay with you? What for? Look at us, we're already fightin'
Young Noah: Well that's what we do, we fight... You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you are a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99% of the time. I'm not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you're back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing.
Young Allie: So what?
Young Noah: So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? 30 years from now, 40 years from now? What's it look like? If it's with him, go. Go! I lost you once, I think I can do it again. If I thought that's what you really wanted. But don't you take the easy way out.
Young Allie: What easy way? There is no easy way, no matter what I do, somebody gets hurt.
Young Noah: Would you stop thinking about what everyone wants? Stop thinking about what I want, what he wants, what your parents want. What do YOU want? What do you WANT?
Young Allie: It's not that simple.
Young Noah: What... do... you... want? Whaddaya want?
My 'Blurt' Prologue...
My story is a long one. Though, now that my life is on track- it feels like just that.
A Story. Maybe someone else's story? I don't know..
Who would have thought this would begin from trying to learn how to touch type?
This is where the idea of typing about my life, my story, on a screen begins.
Surely, by the time I have finished pouring my heart out onto a blank canvas, putting it into
words for someone other than me to understand, I should be able to type 60 words per minute and
my soul will be lighter. My head will be clearer. I will be complete...
A Story. Maybe someone else's story? I don't know..
Who would have thought this would begin from trying to learn how to touch type?
This is where the idea of typing about my life, my story, on a screen begins.
Surely, by the time I have finished pouring my heart out onto a blank canvas, putting it into
words for someone other than me to understand, I should be able to type 60 words per minute and
my soul will be lighter. My head will be clearer. I will be complete...
No comments:
Post a Comment