United States

seventeen/student/mpls/singer/horse obsessed/chai enthusiast/xanthophile
I'm just trying to learn how to write.

Message to Readers

Jenny- SATB arr. Ryan Kerr and Nick Myers
Crimson and coral
Sunset falls on Willow Park
On this noble tree where you'd climb
I see "Jenny" carved into the bark
Sable and saphire
Dim the final light of day
Laughter seems to float on the breeze
Through the willow trees where you used to play
In the darkness in the starlight
I hear angels sing your name
As they bear you
Through the heavens
To the light from which you came
Quietly the strain falls out of tune
Shadows steal across a lonely moon
I miss you so
Smokey and silver
Dawn will soon dissolve the dark
Still one shadow stays in the veil
Of the trees in Willow Park
As the sunrise drowns the darkness
All the angels sing your name
And your flying through the heavens
To the light from which you came
Whispers of their song that echo yet
Make me glad to know I wont forget
My Jenny dear
My Jenny dear
I love you so

To: My Jenny Dear (I love you so)

January 21, 2016


I walked into the bathroom today and for a split second I lost my breath.
No, there wasn't anything horrifying, disgusting, or disturbing. Just a pair of all black, beat up, high top converse right behind the door to the handicap stall. The kind of shoes you wore every day, two times more beat up than everyone else's, two times more loved. The stall you used to hang out in all day, smoking and doing who knows what else. Don't act surprised, you knew we all knew what you were doing "in the bathroom". I can't count how many times I have seen that scene before: black converse on the other side of the handicap stall door. You'd always seem to come out as I was washing my hands, maybe for a breather, maybe to redo your eyeliner, I don't know. But it'd always happen. And you'd waltz out looking at your phone and look up and the second our eyes met, your saunter would change to a sheepish scuffle and a quick smile. And then we'd part.
But it didn't start like this. No, not at all. But in the same sense, it started the way it ended, with you missing something and me trying to help.
First day of sixth grade. Oh golly gee, middle school here we come. First class of the day, I sat down in my seat. Spanish 1, room 106. I was so nervous I could pee. Then you came rushing in, and I could tell you were just as flustered as I was. But, you had it worse. We've been through many of the same experiences, but you've always "had it worse". This time, you really did. You were new in a middle school full of kids who had grown up together since kindergarten. Everybody knew everybody else's name, age, family, pets, history, favorite food, you name it. When you live in a small town, there's no secrets. And there was no secret that you were new either, I hadn't even seen you around. So, when you slid into that desk next to mine, ruffled through your things, and anxiously looked around, I was intrigued. I wanted to be your friend. So I was. It all started with a pencil (which you had forgot to bring. How does one not bring a pencil to the first day of... never mind).
Years flew by, with you and I being the kind of friends I'll call school friends: we'd talk all day in class but never outside of it. Already by seventh grade, I could tell you weren't the kind to follow all the rules; your chameleon-like hair could tell me that much, but also, the stories you told me about hanging out with your high school friends and the time you told me you smoked a cigarette and were so worried about what would happen. I was there with you through all those horribly awkward years.
High school came and we were still in sync. We were in so many of the same accelerated classes, we saw each other all the time. Then you met him. And honestly, as much as I stick to my theory, I think it was him. It was him who started the chain reaction. You'd tell me how good he was to you and how you were helping him with his classes and how it was such a healthy relationship, but I could see things you couldn't, things that you chose to overlook. You latched on. You threw yourself at him and he pretended to catch you. Your grades fell, you quit things you loved, you lost your glow. And once it started, there was nothing I could do but watch.
Oh, but it's not like I didn't try to do anything. Believe me, I did. I offered tutoring sessions even when I had hours of volleyball practice, rehearsal for shows, and homework of my own every single night. I helped you with things during the school day. I sent you my notes when you missed class. But there was absolutely nothing I could do to keep you in class. By the end of sophomore year, when we had Honors English together, I think I saw you in that class 20% of the days you were supposed to be there. When he left you, you fell even deeper, situations and things I can't even write here.
But you did not fight. You did not accept help you did not help yourself you did not even try. And you know what? I know that probably hurt you but it hurt me too because, MC,
you threw your life away.
Yes, you did. You cannot even argue about it because it happened. You gave up and do you know how hard it is to watch someone you care about self distruct? It's pretty fucking hard I'll tell you that much. I watched you give up everything you had worked for, every test we'd studied together for, every concert, every meet, every assignment, every effort, everything that made you smile, you gave it up. You threw them all away for drugs and alcohol and a boy who cared more about the first two things than you.
It's been a while. I've tried everything to contact you, but I get nothing. Unread texts, DMs, Facebook messages, comments, emails, nothing. I get nothing even when I put everything into you. You're at a new school now. I remember one of the last conversations we had was me trying to calm you down because you hated our school and wanted to transfer but were scared no one would accept you because of your attendence record and failed classes. Apparently, that wasn't an issue.
I wanted you to come to my last choir concert. I invited you, but of course got no response. But I wanted you there. Not only because I miss you, but because I sang a song for you.
You're still beautiful. You're still a genius, even though you choose not to show it. You're still a singer, even though you choose to damage your voice with substance abuse. You're still a gymnast, even though you gave that up for more "messing around" time. You're still a friend, even though you choose to ignore me.
And that's why this song is for you.
You are my Jenny dear, I love you so.


See History
  • January 21, 2016 - 5:10pm (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.

1 Comment
  • Nick Fore

    Was the story behind the song ever posted, or is this the story. If this isnt the story is this just a story you made to go with the song

    4 months ago