‘’As the days go by, as we grow older, we start to think. About the past, about the future. That’s what it’s all about to some people. The past leaves a trail of unbreakable sadness and loss in some people minds. In some people minds it leaves a trail of happiness and joy. Some people even ignore the past. Other people think of the past like a part of yourself; of your soul. What happened in the past - good or bad - is going to change your life forever.
Then there is the future. The future is a thing that people think about in three ways: Number one; it doesn’t exist. The people that think that just live in the present. Like there is no future, no past.
Number two; there are people who only focus on the future. The ‘Never look back’ people. They plan ahead. ‘I need to eat healthy food so when I’m 80 years old my bones will still be strong’.
Number three; they see the future in a blur. They think about high school, collage and things like that, but they never seem to get the big picture. Never seem to realize that life isn’t just about making money and getting the best education. It’s about so much more. It’s about things that I don’t recognize since I’m in group number three.’’
‘’Very good, miss Cold. Very good indeed!” The teacher smiled a big, crooked smile. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. My pen friend, Jamie, wrote that for me. She’s from Germany. Imagine that! She’s from Germany and she’s doing my English homework! Don’t think that’s funny? Well, I think it’s hilarious! Poor thing…
I would feel even more sorry for her if I wouldn’t be doing her homework also! I told her once that my Germany sucked, and voilá! She’s making me do her fucking homework to make it better! GAHH!
‘’You may sit down now, Miss Cold.” The teacher said coldly. My face went scarlet as I glared at her. The whole class snickered.
‘’Quite down, kids! Angela, you’re next. Hurry,” I turned around just in time to see Angela stand up.
Angela was the ‘I don’t care about life’ girl. She had long, black hair with purple highlights, big, beautiful brown eyes that she always covered with way to much mascara and eyeliner (well…too much for my personal liking, atleast). She wore ripped jeans and band T-shirts. I didn’t like her, but I didn’t dislike her either.
I was ripped out of my thoughts as she started talking:
‘’No one knows the purpose of life. Life is just something that you’re given, it’s not something you choose. Life is like a paper. A paper you can’t get rid of except burning it to dust.
You see, you are born with a paper in one hand and a pencil in the other. God expects you to use that pen to draw something on the paper, something great, something beautiful.
But as we all know, some people just can’t draw. If you can’t draw an alright picture one that paper, you’re life goes to waist. No one likes a bad picture, except the ones that see something else then too short pencil strokes and bad taste of colors. Those are the people with the most beautiful, but at the same time the most sad pictures. Those are the angels that have fallen from heaven, the people with the golden heart who show sympathy, but at the same time respect to the people who can’t draw. Those are the people that come running if a little child looses its candy. Those are the people that cry with you when you have lost someone close to you, the people that stand by you when everyone else has turned their back on you.
But some people can’t be saved by those angels, some people just draw too bad pictures, so bad that even the greatest artist wouldn’t be able to help them,”
She walked back to her seat and sat down.
I stared.
The teacher stared.
Everyone stared.
‘’That was…that was very good, Angela. You could have made it longer, the end was a bit strange, but it was good. Matt, you’re up next!’’

But I didn’t pay attention to Matt. I was watching Angela. A small tear was forming in her eye but she wiped it away.
In my mind she wasn’t ‘the girl who didn’t care about life’ anymore. She was ‘the good painter’.






Ákvað að skrifa eitthvað á ensku til að bæta málfræðina…endilega komið með álit (ég veit að þessi saga er clicheé en mér er sama…)