Opposites Attract
Opposites Attract
I’ve never seen heaven, I’ve never been there, or touched there. It seems quite silly really. Day by day we see those we love, those we cherish. Flash like a beam of lightning in the dark night sky. Well that’s what I use to think, they say if a crush lasts more than four months, you’re in love. So what happens when, I’ve been infatuated with you for thirty six months? Have I fallen in love with you nine times? Or have I just wasted three years, thirty six months, one hundred and fifty six weeks, one thousand and ninety two days craving your affection.
Like bubbles children are full of potential: there are times that they soar up high and gently around, or just plain pop! It is really the blower of the bubble that dictates the longevity of the bubble, as well as its direction. The bubble blower supports the bubble in its fight, as it is extremely fragile, and interestingly the thicker the solution the more durable the bubble. I guess my ‘bubble’ was popped when my parents left me outside the orphanage here in Bundanoon.
I never had two figures to look up to, to support me. Each year there was a Dog show held at different rural towns in New South Wales and the year had come for my town to have it. I could hear the heat crackling the red dirt beneath my feet with each step I took. A minor branch line in New South Wales, nobody knows why it was built, the only people to use it was the few travellers it jostled every week- a twice a week service. The train stopped gliding outside a small tin shed, where a water tank stood beside with a wooden rotting sign board the name ‘Bundanoon’ imposingly written on it.
The door opened, the passengers appearing at the door looked scorching hot, filthy and worn-out. Each stepped off one by one with their bagging, there nose up whilst gripping onto their pooches, they looked around, none of them seemed too impressed with the flimsy station they had arrived at. In the faint distance I could see a boy that
I’ve never seen heaven, I’ve never been there, or touched there. It seems quite silly really. Day by day we see those we love, those we cherish. Flash like a beam of lightning in the dark night sky. Well that’s what I use to think, they say if a crush lasts more than four months, you’re in love. So what happens when, I’ve been infatuated with you for thirty six months? Have I fallen in love with you nine times? Or have I just wasted three years, thirty six months, one hundred and fifty six weeks, one thousand and ninety two days craving your affection.
Like bubbles children are full of potential: there are times that they soar up high and gently around, or just plain pop! It is really the blower of the bubble that dictates the longevity of the bubble, as well as its direction. The bubble blower supports the bubble in its fight, as it is extremely fragile, and interestingly the thicker the solution the more durable the bubble. I guess my ‘bubble’ was popped when my parents left me outside the orphanage here in Bundanoon.
I never had two figures to look up to, to support me. Each year there was a Dog show held at different rural towns in New South Wales and the year had come for my town to have it. I could hear the heat crackling the red dirt beneath my feet with each step I took. A minor branch line in New South Wales, nobody knows why it was built, the only people to use it was the few travellers it jostled every week- a twice a week service. The train stopped gliding outside a small tin shed, where a water tank stood beside with a wooden rotting sign board the name ‘Bundanoon’ imposingly written on it.
The door opened, the passengers appearing at the door looked scorching hot, filthy and worn-out. Each stepped off one by one with their bagging, there nose up whilst gripping onto their pooches, they looked around, none of them seemed too impressed with the flimsy station they had arrived at. In the faint distance I could see a boy that