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Rejected Book Plots

Not every book can be the next Twilight

Stream of Consciousness

Sometimes I turn the water on as hot as it will go and just sit there. I let the water burn my skin and think that this is what acid rain must feel like. I think that previous generations must think this world has gone to hell. I think about how thankful I am that I didn’t grow up in previous generations. I think about how intolerance was so prevalent. I then think about the recent string of suicides by teens who were sick of being bullied for just being themselves. I think we are no better than previous generations. I think we hide behind our ideas of tolerance and compassion while openly denying people the liberty and freedoms this country was founded on. I think about how future generations will perceive us. Will our children laugh at the fact we thought the iPad was so high-tech? Will our children wonder how we survived without robots? I think about why every version of my future vision includes robots in some capacity. I think maybe dinosaurs can be resurrected like in Jurassic Park. Then I wonder if dinosaurs and robots could live in harmony. I think about how long the human race will last. I think and I think and I think. I think until my hands turn into prunes and the water runs cold. I think it is time. It is time to get out and go back to the mundane reality of living vs. the endless possibilities of thinking.


I think.



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