Now that I teach, every family gathering is a parent-teacher conference.
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@PensivePost #RandomThoughts
Stealing From The Dead Is Never A Good Idea
This happened when I was still in high school.It was a Friday afternoon and our basketball team had a home game later that night, so my buddies and I got some beer and had a pre-game at the cemetery right by our school (don’t ask me why it was at the cemetery, we just went there every time because it was hidden and no one was ever there to catch us.)When it would get dark out we would like to try and scare each other/play games. Like “let’s see who can run the farthest into the cemetery without getting creped out and turning around.”Well this time when my friend Pete ran off into the darkness, he didn’t return. After about 10 or 15 minutes we started to worry so we began to call out his name and look around for him. After about 5 minutes of this Pete ran up behind us and scared the living shit out of us. But he came back with something.“Guys look what I found lying on a headstone!” he told us.It was an old weathered looking rose, looked like it had been there for years. We told him to put it back and that it was probably not a good idea to steal from a dead person. But he refused and threw it on the back dash of his car. We then left for the basketball game and went on with our night.But something was weird about this flower, it stayed there for the rest of the time I knew him. We would ride in his car to a party and mess with the flower all the time, break it and throw it out the window, things like that. But it always returned. It would always be sitting there on his back dash when we would get back in his car.At first, we figured he was just playing a trick on us, thinking he had bought a whole bunch of these types of flowers and would just place a new one back there after we threw it out the window. But Pete declined ever placing a new one back there. It was also a very particular rose that he had, so it would be very hard to recreate the same design every time.One night he was taking us home after a party and we couldn’t find the flower in his car anywhere. We asked him and he said if it wasn’t sitting there then he didn’t know what happened to it. We never found it and he dropped us off like normal.It wasn’t until the morning after that I found out Pete had killed himself on the way home that night.I couldn’t make it to his funeral but I eventually went to visit his grave, he was buried in that same cemetery that we would always hang out in and drink. But my stomach sank when I walked up to his grave and saw that rose flower, sitting on top of his headstone. That same flower that was in his car for all that time.To this day every time I go back to visit his grave that flower is always on top of his headstone, hopefully never to be taken by another group of young dumb kids.
@PensivePost #story by Teej
This happened when I was still in high school.It was a Friday afternoon and our basketball team had a home game later that night, so my buddies and I got some beer and had a pre-game at the cemetery right by our school (don’t ask me why it was at the cemetery, we just went there every time because it was hidden and no one was ever there to catch us.)When it would get dark out we would like to try and scare each other/play games. Like “let’s see who can run the farthest into the cemetery without getting creped out and turning around.”Well this time when my friend Pete ran off into the darkness, he didn’t return. After about 10 or 15 minutes we started to worry so we began to call out his name and look around for him. After about 5 minutes of this Pete ran up behind us and scared the living shit out of us. But he came back with something.“Guys look what I found lying on a headstone!” he told us.It was an old weathered looking rose, looked like it had been there for years. We told him to put it back and that it was probably not a good idea to steal from a dead person. But he refused and threw it on the back dash of his car. We then left for the basketball game and went on with our night.But something was weird about this flower, it stayed there for the rest of the time I knew him. We would ride in his car to a party and mess with the flower all the time, break it and throw it out the window, things like that. But it always returned. It would always be sitting there on his back dash when we would get back in his car.At first, we figured he was just playing a trick on us, thinking he had bought a whole bunch of these types of flowers and would just place a new one back there after we threw it out the window. But Pete declined ever placing a new one back there. It was also a very particular rose that he had, so it would be very hard to recreate the same design every time.One night he was taking us home after a party and we couldn’t find the flower in his car anywhere. We asked him and he said if it wasn’t sitting there then he didn’t know what happened to it. We never found it and he dropped us off like normal.It wasn’t until the morning after that I found out Pete had killed himself on the way home that night.I couldn’t make it to his funeral but I eventually went to visit his grave, he was buried in that same cemetery that we would always hang out in and drink. But my stomach sank when I walked up to his grave and saw that rose flower, sitting on top of his headstone. That same flower that was in his car for all that time.To this day every time I go back to visit his grave that flower is always on top of his headstone, hopefully never to be taken by another group of young dumb kids.
@PensivePost #story by Teej
Present Tense
With him, I always felt like I was living in the present. Every second I'd spend with him was a moment worth embracing since I knew these moments were so difficult to retain. We'd lie there; the bed colder than his skin. We would stare at the ceiling fan's unhurried movements as our eyes followed the blades. My head rested on his chest, and I could still remember the steadiness of his heartbeat as he'd inhale calmly, accepting the inevitable.And we'd lie there in silence as the room grew darker. I'd slowly move my hand up and down his chest, feeling the emptiness of his body and the weakening of his breath. The flower petals across the room were dying, and my eyes would drift from their hypnosis of the ceiling fan towards the petals falling on the floor. This was my reminder that my days with him were numbered, and now I dread the sight of dying flowers.There was no sense of time when I was with him, the longing for eternity with him overwhelmed my thoughts--the petals reminded me that time was very much alive and destroying us by the milliseconds. I held him throughout the long nights, barely getting sleep. Except, sleep wasn't a priority, nor was it an option. In my days with him, sleep was the villain, and he was my hero. Sleep was the equivalent of leaving him alone, terrified, and dismal. Instead, I'd focus on the hypnosis of ceiling fan that would remind me of the present.Everything was so vivid that night. My eyes had drifted from the fan once again and they focused on the flower petal. It had been the last petal to fall on the floor. I could feel my heart viciously thumping through my chest as my eyes widened. I couldn't bring myself to blink, I was savoring every second left with him. I turned my head to hear the remaining heartbeats he had left. My hand rested upon his chest as I felt his lungs rise less and less. My hand tightly grasped his hospital gown as my frigid tears streamed down my cheeks and onto his skin. I had lost him. I had lost our present. Our eternity.The past was far too difficult for my musing, as was the future. Time was the convict, and it had won its very first battle. My last week with him was the longest feeling i had ever experienced, I saw him bloom into the most wonderful partner and wither into the most mysterious phantom. I loved him more than time had to offer; I love him even more now.And now every night, I lie on my bed staring at the ceiling fan in my room hoping my insomnia allows me a couple hours of rest. I haven't replaced the flowers by his nightstand, and I don't plan to. Even when the last flower petal falls to the floor reminding me of the days I have left until I lose my sanity. I live every day remembering the past and dreaming of the future, for the present was my sanctuary and now it's my nightmare.
@PensivePost #story by caroxvc
With him, I always felt like I was living in the present. Every second I'd spend with him was a moment worth embracing since I knew these moments were so difficult to retain. We'd lie there; the bed colder than his skin. We would stare at the ceiling fan's unhurried movements as our eyes followed the blades. My head rested on his chest, and I could still remember the steadiness of his heartbeat as he'd inhale calmly, accepting the inevitable.And we'd lie there in silence as the room grew darker. I'd slowly move my hand up and down his chest, feeling the emptiness of his body and the weakening of his breath. The flower petals across the room were dying, and my eyes would drift from their hypnosis of the ceiling fan towards the petals falling on the floor. This was my reminder that my days with him were numbered, and now I dread the sight of dying flowers.There was no sense of time when I was with him, the longing for eternity with him overwhelmed my thoughts--the petals reminded me that time was very much alive and destroying us by the milliseconds. I held him throughout the long nights, barely getting sleep. Except, sleep wasn't a priority, nor was it an option. In my days with him, sleep was the villain, and he was my hero. Sleep was the equivalent of leaving him alone, terrified, and dismal. Instead, I'd focus on the hypnosis of ceiling fan that would remind me of the present.Everything was so vivid that night. My eyes had drifted from the fan once again and they focused on the flower petal. It had been the last petal to fall on the floor. I could feel my heart viciously thumping through my chest as my eyes widened. I couldn't bring myself to blink, I was savoring every second left with him. I turned my head to hear the remaining heartbeats he had left. My hand rested upon his chest as I felt his lungs rise less and less. My hand tightly grasped his hospital gown as my frigid tears streamed down my cheeks and onto his skin. I had lost him. I had lost our present. Our eternity.The past was far too difficult for my musing, as was the future. Time was the convict, and it had won its very first battle. My last week with him was the longest feeling i had ever experienced, I saw him bloom into the most wonderful partner and wither into the most mysterious phantom. I loved him more than time had to offer; I love him even more now.And now every night, I lie on my bed staring at the ceiling fan in my room hoping my insomnia allows me a couple hours of rest. I haven't replaced the flowers by his nightstand, and I don't plan to. Even when the last flower petal falls to the floor reminding me of the days I have left until I lose my sanity. I live every day remembering the past and dreaming of the future, for the present was my sanctuary and now it's my nightmare.
@PensivePost #story by caroxvc
If you want to really clean a floor smash some glass on it first. You never clean a floor as thoroughly as you do until after some glass has been smashed on it
@PensivePost #RandomThoughts
@PensivePost #RandomThoughts
...I wake from my nap, taking a sip from the room temperature milk that's been sitting on the coffee table.
I notice..., eyes, motionless; mouth, wide open, as no drool emerges from my girlfriend's mouth; and I wonder, how long has rigor mortis lasted, as I go back to my slumber...
@PensivePost #2lines
I notice..., eyes, motionless; mouth, wide open, as no drool emerges from my girlfriend's mouth; and I wonder, how long has rigor mortis lasted, as I go back to my slumber...
@PensivePost #2lines
I can get the sound to work on my computer about 25% of the time, but blaring noisy popup ads have no problem.
@PensivePost #RandomThoughts
@PensivePost #RandomThoughts
I can't remember a time when I wasn't able to read and all I saw was random text.
@PensivePost #RandomThoughts
@PensivePost #RandomThoughts