Regarding the difference between fiction and nonfiction, the statement that is most accurate is that nonfiction writers are more often free to move about in time and space. The correct option among all the options that are given in the question is the third option or option "c". Fiction writers do not need to be realistic.
6. shouts
7. ability to use words well
<span>I think about my past a lot, they say your past doesn’t define your future but honestly, it does. I think about that last moment I saw you, that last moment I heard your voice. I think about it all the time. He would hide me from your boyfriends. I think of the times when he would come back to our room with bruises and bleeding. I think of that first moment I thought it was okay to do things I shouldn’t just because I was taught wrong. I remember the crack in your voice when you said you’ll come back for me. I remember all the late nights filled with screaming and fighting. I remember the moment you gave up on me, the moment you decided sex and drugs were more important than your babies. I remember the look in your eye’s the last time I saw you, all I could see was that it didn’t faze you. I try to look at life in a positive way but honestly, all I see is the negative. Do you remember all the tears? all the screams? all the terror? I do. I guess I should say thank you. thank you for embedding my brain with these things I will never forget no matter how much I try. But thank you for teaching me that this world isn’t butterflies and rainbows no matter how many times I close my eyes to try to imagine... this perfect world that will never exist. this just means the future will be hard, but nothing I can’t just push past because you filled me with enough pain... what’s a little more? Is it not like I have feeling’s huh? because I can’t feel pain? Right? I can’t possibly remember anything from that far long ago. Even though I say I can’t remember. Maybe I can... something brings it back, simple word or smell sends a river of memory rushing over me. That memory I have you to thank for. I don’t blame you, it was your life your decisions maybe you had a reason that I don’t know of or don’t understand. When I close my eyes and try to imagine you, I can’t. All I get is dark deep blackness. What happens now? How do I get past this no matter how tightly my eyes are shut or that my nails are digging in my skin because my fist is so tight I can’t get past the pain, all that pass pain. I have a 6-foot thick wall put up around me, I’m boxed in. the only thing I have to see the outside and let people in is a 6-foot hole through one of the 6 sides. but that hole is tiny I’m trying so hard to let people in. I can’t break down this wall, I put it up to shut people like you out but I shut everyone out. I know how to break that wall but am I ready. Am I ready to forgive and forget? Am I ready to let go of my past? I don’t know, it kill’s me how you destroyed MY life you destroyed HIS life and I have to forgive you he already has. but I’m not him I’m not waiting for you to come back with an open arm that’s him the one who was hurt the most the one who can’t hide his pain like I can. If he can and I can’t there has to be something I’m missing. I’m messing with you, I never had that I don’t remember the love from you only the pain. but he does he is the strong one, not me, he is the brave one, not me. he is the broken one who is just now learning how to make peace with the past but me I still need time. I can’t let go quite yet.</span>
tennis.
already
sushi.
to Acapulco.
you
your homework?
the cake.
the gardener
the grass?
about the situation.
already
"The little Prince."
a new house.
you ever
hot chocolate?
playing the piano.
to the beach yet.