Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield
Aniela lay on her bed looking up at the chandelier. Graduation was tomorrow; everything she had worked for would be accomplished. Her grades weren’t perfect, but they were as good as she could manage. She didn’t want to go to college, not when she didn’t have a goal, something to be working toward. The eggshell ceiling above her was like a blank page, her future unwritten. Even though she did not want to be Queen, she envied Theodore; he had always known what he was working toward.
Unable to lay still any longer, Aniela ran outside. She needed to move, needed to run, needed to do something. She gasped as the rain smacked into her, coming down almost horizontally. Pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her her fingers, she ran. Unconventional? Sure, but it was something. It was movement; it wasn’t staying in the same place, treading water until she could no longer stay above the surface. She wasn’t sure what she was running toward, she just needed to run.
-Eliabeth Hawthorne
What about God? 