Paragraph - Blog Posts
I really love paragraph breaks
Long rant
i have school tomorrow. I'm going to "wake up" (I'm not actually sleeping, I'm just gonna stay up all night) at 6:00 am and go to school before 7:30 (Because that's when first hour starts), I'll skip breakfast, I usually just don't eat breakfast because I'm late or am busy talking to friends.
Anyways, I'm probably just gonna be quiet most of the day, I get days like that sometimes, not usually though... I'm probably gonna be a bit more snappy than usual too... Sorry Ms. J & Mr. T (Their my 5th and 6th hour teachers, I see them after lunch and an usually really agitated for no reason after lunchtime)
Anyways, I don't really know where I was gonna go with this, not exactly a vent, but not really a ramble..? Kinda just a mix of Both...
Anyway, I'm gonna go watch some videos now! :3
An Excerpt
As the thief dashed through the street, Sukume yelled desperately searching for anyone who could help. The bastard had gotten away with HER hard earned pay and she’d be damned if she let him get away with it. Thievery and debts were no joke in Khonuki, especially in the entertainment district. Thankfully, their legs were made to run efficiently and quickly! It was a shame they didn't have feet though.. In retrospect it’s probably to fend off the dust storms. As Sukume caught up to the little crook they grabbed their bag, yanking them back forcefully into her. Both of them were sent tumbling down onto the rocky floor. Sukume knew they didn't make roads because of religion and the storms or whatever but damn they could put something softer down at least! Bonking her head on the sharp rocks was incredibly unpleasant. At least she was able to apprehend the pickpocket. Reaching into the bag she noted the snobby craftsmanship. It looked like it was made of clothing scraps with different patterns and textures all over the sack. The handle was made of leather while the actual bag was of a scratchy cloth. PersOnally Sukume wouldn’t be caught dead with… whatever this was but she supposed beggars can’t be choosers. They were probably stealing for a reason. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if the thief was from Domu. All of them were either robbers, depressed lunatics, or ugly losers. It’s no wonder why all the colonies hate them–they always act up and lie then pin it on us when they're caught! Standing up Sukume brushed off her EXPENSIVE clothes and quickly fished her small purse out of the burglars bag. It was much nicer than theirs. Small enough to fit in her pocket and a vibrant bluish-purple, it was what you expected from a prestigious house in Khonuki. The purse had blue diamond markings covering it as a pattern and a small keychain connected to the zipper. Her most prized possession with all the money she earned!—-------------------------------------
There is something beautiful about being me
There is something beautiful about being me. I do not know if it is the endless amount of comfort I apply to myself like a muscle relaxer or maybe if it is the solace I find in my own company, my own mind, and conscience. Or maybe if it is the glowing brown skin adorned with artwork. Or the tireless hands who have life riddled between the palms. Sometimes, however, my mind is not a nice place to be. It whispers lies into reality and convinces me that what I see before me is more than it is. And it is not something I can run from, but rather something that has backed me into a corner and berated me. There is no running from the labyrinth of possibilities my mind lays in front of me. I wish I could count endless sheep or drown out the sound of the whispers with a repeated mantra over and over and over again, but my thoughts reign supreme. My thoughts control my day, my face, and my hands. But this mind that runs rampant throughout the day is mine to own. It is mine to claim and let it be known, there is a beauty to this madness. The beauty of seeing all sides of the same coin. Endless realities mean I do not have to be forced into one. There is beauty to owning something so wild, so dangerously quick, livid, and winding. There will always be another turn, another roundabout, or sharp right. And at the end of the day, at the end of my days, when my bones ache and my body begs for rest, there will still be my wild mind wreaking a beautiful havoc in my head.
Mantra article fiction paragraph piece