Ponyboy Thoughts About Inner Self Novels & Stories

"If it is your truth, let it be heard." The letters dropped in the quiet room, a gentle but undeniable call. If it's your truth, tell it. Jonah gazed at him, the fear in his eyes already warring with a developing, terrible sense of purpose. He glanced at the piles of letters from strangers, the ones that wrote you gave me courage. He thought of the boy in Nebraska. He recalled himself as a child, the self he had addressed in writing. What would that child have exchanged for this book? A map that says, It gets better is one thing. A map that says, It gets glorious is something else.

Filo Prout POVS I'm here in the corner of my room. I was suspended for a weeks for the gruesome I've done after I beat a whole class not mentally but physical. No matter how brutal I did, why is that I can't satisfied myself. I want to beat someone to death. I can't, I won't. I want to read some books but, I don't have enough strength. THE ME NOW IS DIFFERENT PERSON. I USED TO READ BOOKS ALL BY MYSELF.

“Your kind is clearly oozing with pride. I doubt you never thought of making him pay.” It was the first time we ever talked. I could tell his perception about people was a little accurate. That’s right. Actually, it was more than that. I always thought of making that bastard pay for what he did. I let out my true self. The desire I felt was overflowing. It’s impossible to hide my identity anymore. Elder Ron’s face suddenly changed. His smile portrayed a thousand responses. I knew at that time he sensed the temptation crawling in me from his offer.

Anthony’s POV I was a fool, just like how Sandy always called me, but I was a fool with a conscience and fear for the future. I was trying to act smart, to keep my mind and thoughts in check in order to avoid a huge disaster but it was beginning to look very difficult.

But, no matter how hard he looked, nothing can actually explain what is really going on in his mind. "This city hasn't change at all." Theodore whispered to himself. Everytime he visits the city, it's going back in time. Back when he was still young. That awkward teenager that doesn't fit in anything. He always felt like no one is better than him. That he's the best, and no one can compare to him. His narcissistic attitude made him an outsider. Every kids his age always avoid him. They don't even want to be in the same group as him in any kind of school activities.

"I touch myself at night Father. And I do not think about girls. I think about... men. Strong men. I imagine them touching me. Kissing me. Doing things that the Bible says are sins." The words hung in the air. I waited for anger or disappointment. Instead Father Elias stayed quiet for a moment. Then he placed his hand on my knee over the robe. His palm felt big and warm. "Those are heavy burdens for a young man," he said softly. "But the flesh is weak. Especially at your age. Tell me more. Be honest. What exactly do you imagine?" I swallowed hard. My voice came out small. "I imagine being held down. A man bigger than me pushing inside me. Making me feel full. Making me moan even when I know

He set his phone down, the silence of the kitchen amplifying the gravity of the moment. His thoughts drifted to Hay-on-Wye, to the tent filled with six hundred people, and to the moment when he had said, “I pays attention to me,” his voice cutting through the quiet with a clarity that had surprised even him. It was a moment of self-realization, a moment when he had finally acknowledged his own worth after fourteen years of feeling like no one.

“For lettin’ me show you my intensity. For seein’ me. The real me. You seem to know what I need. No one else ever has. No one has ever cared. You make me feel…whole.” They stayed locked together in a silence weighted with both spoken and unspoken words. ******* “No. Keep yourself centered. That’s it. Keep that free arm wavin’ high. Use them spurs! You’re off—” Shit. And the kid hit the dirt with a loud grunt. The lanky boy stood and threw his cowboy hat in disgust. “I ain’t ever gonna get it.”

Ibekwe smiled in his mind as they left, feeling comfortable that he had been accepted into Okoli's family with just a simple pretentious act. He felt relieved knowing that he had done things his way rather than wait for Ifeme to act for him. He stretched out full length upon the bamboo bed and groaned. Then a voice came to his mind, telling him that what he was doing was wrong. The voice pestered him like a faithful fly disturbing a sleeper with no thought of mercy. It was his conscience. The loud demand of the tensity of his own body was a voice on its own that seemed to drown out the voice of his conscience but it didn't. He tried to stop the voice from rebuking him but he couldn't. In the

ground. I grinned at him knowing his throat would burn in the morning. I would have broken his neck if they hadn't grabbed me so fast. When they were walking me out of the conference room I looked for her. I knew she had to be still walking through the lobby with the attorney and all those goons. I could see the little traitor heading out the front door. I will find you, my sweet Sandy. I will remind you who you belong to, and we will leave New York. I will get that whole fucking brotherhood for taking you away from me. I will show that Smoke fucker who the king is. Who do you submit to? I had to calm down. I had to pretend I know what I have done is wrong. I have to act like I know I need