read
write
members
about
account

 

datedatememberrandomsearch

October 12, 2011
Stomach in my throat as we plummet 300 miles per hour, screaming and crying and wondering if just maybe we are dreaming. I pinch myself on the arm and realize just how true it really is. The hair on the back of my neck elevates and I look around at faces I cannot recognize, and I wonder who I would call if only it were OK to use my cell phone. Would it be cruel to let you hear the end of hope? Or would one final goodbye be a fitting end to my time on this earth of ours?