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I'm scared. What will tomorrow bring? It has to be better than today. It has to.

Julie Anne Peters

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Julie Anne Peters
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: January 16
Author
Engineer
Writer
Jamestown
New York
Scared
Tomorrow
Bring
Today
Better

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Take it as a token. Because tomorrow when I go, I want you to believe friends are possible.
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I won't be alive so I won't care who finds me.
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Yeah, I hear the truth. But this is my truth.
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What will I become? Because I won't be me any longer. That will be a relief. I dont want to be the helpless person I've always been.
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I don't have to answer. Until you know the question.
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I wish I could tell my parents, If you want to help me, help me die.
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It was all about hate. There should be laws. We're there laws? Can you legislate against hatred?
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I'd decided to write him and tell him to leave me alone. Please, in a nice way, go away, I really can't deal with you.
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Do what, Kim? Lead a normal life? Too late. Way too late.
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Miracles don't happen. You make them happen. They're not wishes or dreams or candles on a cake. They're not impossible. Reality is real. It's totally and completely under my control.
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She responds by kissing me harder and longer and deeper. She loves me too. She's just afraid.
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Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.
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I have no intent. I have no reason to live, that's all. When I'm gone, I don't want to be remembered.
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But I'm no hero. I had to keep my dirty little secret. The worst sin I committed was holding it in letting the secret blacken me.
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That same piercing screech in her voice every time at the hospital. Do something! When I slit my wrists. Help her! The last time too. Somebody help her. Help us! You're helpless, both of you. All of us.
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I suppose I'll be remembered as dull. Timid. No one ever knew me. People came. They went. I was kind, I think. Not sympathetic, but considerate of others. I always gave up my place in line. I loaned out pencils and paper, or let people take them from me. I never reported a sexual assault.
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Yeah, I loved her. I couldn't help it. She was my brother.
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I hear you. I just don't believe a word you say.
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What you see, isn't always what you get
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His invitation lingers. So does my question. Why me? I don't know the answer. When I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a starving, stunted bird who never grew wings and lost all reason to sing.
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