Проблема с сочинениями перестала быть таковой, когда я научился приукрашать правду и придавать вымыслу оттенок правды. Хотелось бы, чтобы некоторые из них (сочинений) были прочтены не только преподом. Где здесь правда, а где вымысел решайте сами также приветствуются комменты по поводу грамматики; собственно, вообще комменты любые приветствуются:)



“Now the drugs don’t walk, they just make you worse.”

It took me a few hours to find out how empty I can be.
I arrived here early in the morning. It was cold and dark. Eighteen hours with no sleep were gonna kill me, but two Coffee-Colas let my eyes be wide open. The person I’d come to see was still sleeping, so I decided to take a walk around the city. I’ve never been here before and everything seemed unusual and perfect. 9 a.m., I’m standing at the bus-stop, and then she phoned.
‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes,’ she said.
In forty minutes I got hungry, so I bought a hot-dog. Actually I was waiting for an hour or even more. Then she appeared.
I wonder if anyone has ever seen his dream alive. It was a second of a feeling like you’ve just crossed out the numbers and won a lottery. She was exactly a picture from my imagination. I’m standing and staring at her. I can’t say a word ‘cause I’m just stoned. And she says, ‘So, here I am.’
I threw away my hot-dog and felt that it had tasted like a rotten apple. And there we started. We had lots of things to see and to tell each other. As for me, I was full of emotions and didn't see the time running out. That was my big day out. Railway station, subway, wide streets with glamorous shops, fountains, theatres, different cafes, book shop, park that’s painted in red and by dying autumn leaves, two more cafes, cold evening and – at last – the subway where she left and where I stayed waiting for my train. I noticed twelve hours had passed when just left alone here, among people I’ve never known.
I took one more Coffee-Cola and two cigarettes at once and then I found myself drowned in emptiness. I was standing and trying to figure out what that was. Nothing but a day, just several hours of happiness and of nothing to think about. Just two strangers in faceless city of nameless people. That was an ideal moment from a heart-shaped box. And an ideal horror was to follow.
The time till my train arrived had been unbearable. I felt loneliness verging on disease and it seemed to last for ages. In a minute everything became ugly, boring and useless. I was annoyed and didn't know what had come over me. But soon the train came in at the platform, passengers took their seats and I fell asleep.
Since that I’ve been thinking of this day as a combination of one hot minute of happiness and the hours covered with sorrow. In fact, I’ve never seen her anymore. Sometimes I wish there was no that hot minute as it was too short and maybe it will never happen again. The only thing left is that now I always compare length of joy with length of sorrow. Last thing always wins.

(c) Bobby_Brown

п.с.: принимая во внимание тот факт, что есть люди, незнакомые с инглишем (это нормально, каждый занимается тем, что ему нравится) - пишите, если есть желание прочесть это на русском, - сделаю перевод. Благо, текст мой, поэтому перевод будет художественный:)

п.п.с.: час - поздний, потому прошу не серчать на очепятки:)