A story I wrote on April 12 2010. I was thirteen years old and only just started writing short stories.
Life as I see it is like a road that never ends and one where you can’t turn around, you can’t go back to fix things. No matter how much you want to or how hard you try, you simply must keep going and learn to live with the mistakes you’ve made.
That’s why I keep telling myself, think before you do or say something because you’ll end up living with it, no going back.
I turned around too look out the back windshield and watch my old house, life, and friends quickly disappear behind me.
Moving was pretty much the only consistent thing in my life. Sometimes it was good, it allowed me to get away from things I didn’t want to be apart of anymore. If something went wrong is simply pack my bags and move away from it all.
When I think back on it all now I realize I should have faced it, should have at least tried to make it through.
You see, my problem is, instead of facing my fears and the mistakes I’ve made, I run. I run away, leaving a broken road behind me.
Happy reading lovelies,