Welcome to Gaia! ::

I recently took up writing again and decided to try a short story. It's a work in progress, but tell me what you think of it so far...Is it going in the right direction? Are my sentences too choppy? Are my sentences dry? Did i misspell every other word? Is it repetitive? Is it boring? Is it great?

thanks!

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Seventeen. It is an awkward age. It is the line between cliché teenage angst and the “freedom” of adulthood. Well, here I stand straddling that line, afraid to take a step forward but unable to take a step back. The viewpoint from this line is skewed; every problem is magnified and every ache intensified. I should know that fact, but somehow, from time to time, it eludes me.

Looking in front of me, I see only blurred shapes. How is one supposed to walk through a door when one cannot find the right door or when blurs of color block every given path? My stomach jumps, the way you flinch when an out of place strand of hair brushes against your bare arm. Why is uncertainty such a terrifying thing?

It is with a pang of uncertainty that I wake up. Will it be a good day? Will it be a bad one? Will it be one of those days that when you look back on life, it wont stand out but will be clumped together with a thousand other mediocre days? I reluctantly crawl out from beneath my covers and let the sunlight dance across my face. I don't know what today will bring, but I certainly know I wont find out unless I leave my bed's embrace and face it.

The aroma of eggs and burnt toast waft into my bedroom. The smell is a sign of hope. Maybe my mother's maternal instincts came out of hiding. They have been missing for two years and fifteen days. They disappeared when the sirens left. When the sirens were replaced with the sound of a flat lining heart, I thought my mother's maternal instincts were gone for good. I'm not really hungry, but it's not often my mother is here on a Saturday morning. Hesitantly, I make my way downstairs to the kitchen, sleep slowly leaving me.