Breathless. Shake. Knot. Pit. Sting. Mistake. Panic.
Anxiety sucks. It’s scary, terrifying. Numberless thoughts swirl through your mind. Noise muting the soft reassurances. Tight clamp on your chest. Doubts that follow every thought. Am I going to make mistake? Am I going to screw it all up? Am I going to be ok? 
Anxiety. It’s not something you can stop. It’s not something anyone really can. But you can acknowledge what you have. Express exactly what you’re feeling, even when you can’t put it into words, just feel it. Then, in those terrifying moments when it feels like the world is crashing in on you, remind yourself that you will be ok.
Take a breath.
In.
Out.
Cry. Scream. Shout. Be angry. Let it out. Then remind yourself, “I will be ok”. Because you will be. Being ok doesn’t mean stuffing it all in, putting on a persona. Being ok doesn’t mean that those feelings will go away. Being ok...

1. Three quirks or idiosyncrasies. Eat onions with just about anything. Desire to travel. Love color yellow.
2. Three communities to which you belong (these can be unusual). The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. College student. Marvel fan.
3. Three adjectives your peers would use to describe you. Enthusiastic. Creative. Passionate.
4. Three adjectives your family would use. Loving. Driven. Ecstatic.
5. Three adjectives you would use. Sarcastic. Energetic Sincere.
6. Three things about you that very few people know. Parents in a skirmish. Pen name. Accidentally cut the pad of my middle(left hand) finger off.
7. Three beliefs you hold. Everyone is physically beautiful/handsome. There are no "soul mates", just really great matches. Ice cream is the superior dessert.
8. Three questions you have. What if I hadn't ended it? Why don't we love each other more? What if?
9. Three qualities that make your life singular and/or unusual. 9 siblings. In support of gays and lesbians. Gluten and dairy-intolerant.
10. Three specific physical descriptions (the particular shape of your front teeth, the color of...

Dewdrops in the sunrise exhale the scream of dreams passed. 

I  used to hate myself. Granted then, I didn't realize. I thought I was ok. It never occurred to me like that. It never clicked how negative and hurtful my head screamed at me everyday, creating this false identity that absolutely absorbed my true self, or the self that deep inside my heart knew I could be..
Before I was 8, it only mattered that my clothes were pretty and could twirl like a princess. Singing like a superstar, posing like a model. Head held high, lipstick smeared across my lips like the coolest fashion statement. Walking around in pretend gouche bags and prada heels. Life was a dream, and I was the coolest girl.
Age 12. Uncomfortable and embarrassed about my growing chest. Hats tucked as far down my forehead without tearing the hat off my head were the best thing. Makeup was off limits. 
Life continued. It was all profane drama, finding friends, cute boys. I stopped talking,...

I used to hate myself. Granted then, I didn't realize. I thought I was ok. It never occurred to me like that. It never clicked how negative and hurtful my head screamed at me everyday, creating this false identity that absolutely absorbed my true self, or the self that deep inside my heart knew I could be..
Before I was 8, it only mattered that my clothes were pretty and could twirl like a princess. Singing like a superstar, posing like a model. Head held high, lipstick smeared across my lips like the coolest fashion statement. Walking around in pretend gouche bags and prada heels. Life was a dream, and I was the coolest girl.
Age 12. Uncomfortable and embarrassed about my growing chest. Hats tucked as far down my forehead without tearing the hat off my head were the best thing. Makeup was off limits. 
Life continued. It was all profane drama, finding friends, cute boys. I stopped talking,...

Let's be frank for a minute. 
No matter how many times people may say this, I really mean it: you are ENOUGH. 
You are beautiful. 
You are strong. 
Even though you have or are or will go through tough times, you'll be hard on yourself. others will be hard on you. I want you to know that you can do this.
You are here for a reason, a divine purpose that you and only you can fulfill. You are here to do something amazing, and you're the only person who can do it. 
Be yourself. It's the key to being happy, even in the bad times. When you know who you are, you can do anything. 
Love yourself. You are unique and you are beautiful, inside and out. People will try to tear you down, tell you that you're ugly or fat or too skinny. Don't listen to them. The world wants to rip you apart because it knows that...

Ships at a distant have every man's wish on board. Like the torrent of catastrophic sorrow that beats in one's chest, ever present but never close enough to touch or dispel. Every morning one wakes, not remembering the sorrow that it holds. So they reach and wish and go forward, only to find at the end of the day, the ship has moved farther than before. 
    Those who stop people from wishing— they have good intentions. They don't want them to feel that pain, to see that sadness that comes when one's dreams never come true. But in the end, what's life if dreams don't exist? 
    The scientists, the inventors, poets, authors, musicians, dancers— the creators. Not only are they dreamers—everyone has a dream, a wish, a passion, an ambition somewhere deep inside them— but they created their dreams. They didn't stop because of the rallies and petitions. They didn't let the world to tear them...

I didn't like it at first. The hideous monster that writhed around my ankles, and bit at my fingers. It would crawl up my back and dig into my shoulder and nibble at my ear, teeth sharp. It would wrap it's tail tight around my wrists and tug. It was  the ocean, I was a broken boat. But I slowly got used to it. I liked dancing around, running away from its seemingly playful bite. I liked the feel of its teeth in my ear. I decided that my wrists would grow stronger. No need to worry. I was learning to like it.
When they took it away, I felt betrayed, abandoned. I fought for it. I had grown so accustomed of its playful presence. I had started to like  its tricky game, and its compliments that every bite whispered. I liked it. I didn't want to lose it. 
It cried for me, told me I was nothing without it....

Twirling in the kitchen, we danced to silenced music in our broken apartment.

I’m stuck between the pages
I'm lost within the words
I'm crumpled, forgotten
A lonely, flightless bird.

Pages of mixed-up letters
Like a dyslexic maniac
I run and run in circles  
Desperate to keep track.

I'm smothered by the shadows
Lost in the dark
I'm fighting with nothing but fear
And bruised battle-marks.

Consuming me by the second
I try to grope for air
But all that comes is mouthfuls
Of dark despair.

I'm stranded in the crowd
An invisible member of the play
Thrown around like nothing
No real reason to stay.

I'm hurt inside and out
I'm crying for relief  
Hoping for a change, one day
To free me from this grief.

I'm hammered in, nothing left
But a pile of shattered glass
I'm done, I'm broken, left
Abandoned by the cast.

But even when I've reached this point
I always get back up
Not by me, but by something unseen
The one something that doesn't...

The night is quiet. I can hear a cricket, dying and sad, chirping in a corner. Rain spills quietly from the ashen sky, patting against the cobblestone below. It smells heavenly, as if the droplets are rinsing away the dirt and grime and blood that hides in the cracks of stone, in the dark corners, in the streetways. It feels cool against my fingers as I stretch them out, watching in fascination as the dirt rolls gently off my skin. I pull my hand back and try to fix the glove over my wet hand. I take a deep breath of fresh petrichor, letting it seep into my body.
    I love the sound the rain drops make as I run down the street, my feet patting like a child’s against the wet stone. I can feel the water soaking through my jacket and pass my clothes to tickle my skin. I feel like a little girl again, playing and...

It's been a long time
Months gone by,
Time's hands twitched,
Waiting

I forgot for a while
life's winds blew
And tore my eyes away
From you

But now we've come 
Together again.
Hello, my friend.
Welcome back.
 

Something was leaking from the walls, like tears sobbing from one's face. The gray fumes curled from the wall's creases like snakes quietly slithering from their nests. Maelee was panicking, her shoes clopping like a stampeding horse against the mossy cobblestone. She was talking, but Bruce didn't hear her. He watched the gray smoke, watched it writhe like a palpitating moth. His eyes were wide, his heart fluttering.
"Maelee," He whispered sheepishly. "Calm down."
"No-no-no-no-no-no! This can't be happeni-I didn't say bye to mom this morning, I-"
"Mae!" She stopped, her feet finally quiet. Bruce took a shallow breath. "It's OK. We'll make it out. I promise."
Maelee shook her head in despair. "No-no we won't. It's useless. There's no way out!"
Bruce stared at her, his lungs rasping from the acid that was poisoning him. "Get up on my back," He said calmly, bending down near one of the walls. "I'll boost you up."
"It's not goi-"
"It'll work. Just get on." He...

Spine
Sturdy and strong
Bending not, only creasing

Face
Colored and drawn
A continuing work of art

Bod
Feeble and thin
Bears emotion, creates tears

It shares its talent
It lives its life
Until the day comes
When it crumbles
And only exists
In the hearts
Of the ones it touched

 

Puckered lips and red blossoms, raven-black hair twirling in the wind, the girl stood against the black sky like a beacon in the mist.

Sammi’s little hand was clasped firmly in her mother’s. Her fingers tingled from the excitement that her little body resonated. Her shoes clipped the silent hospital air as she skipped sloppily alongside her mother.  
With a bit of scrambling, Sammi heaved her body up onto the chair, and, to her slight surprise, her mother sat next to her. Moments of silence passed through the empty building, until her mother spoke;
“Sammi, I’m going to stay a little longer today. Daddy’s going to pick you up when he gets off work, okay? Just stay here so he’ll know where to find you, alright?”
Sammi nodded. “Okay, mommy.”
A creaking door sounded. Gentle lips caressed Sammi’s forehead as her mother waved farewell. The man in the long, white coat was there, guiding her to the third room on the left. As usual.
But not as usual, Sammi didn’t hop out of the chair and run to her room. Instead, she sat...

"What'd we do now?" Bev gasped between shallow breathes. The room before them was almost empty. A small bed and a beaten rope dangled from the ceiling. That was it. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to go.
    Tears filled her eyes. "Andy," She urged, looking at her older brother.  
    His eyes darted across the room, searching for anything. He ran forward feeling the walls frantically. "Help me!" She shouted at her. 
    Moments that felt like hours passed. "I don't see anything." Bev was in hysterics now. What if they couldn't get out? 
    "Here!" There was a soft scraping sound as Andy tore at the stale wallpaper. A small door was revealed. 
    "What is it?"
    "A dumbwaiter-"
    Voices echoed from the halls they had come from. 
    "Hurry, get in! I'll pull you up." 
    Bev clambered feverishly into the little compartment. She barely fit.  ...

Boston, New York
11:42 a.m.
November 23 2006

I'm not going to share this with anyone but myself. Alright?
Fine. Just promise, and no side questions. 
Let's get started. 

(I sit in a big cushy chair, directly across from my patron. I note the way her hair is purposefully styled; she wants to hide her eyes. The baseball cap that sits tightly over her brown hair saggs and is full of wrinkles and odd bulches. Her jeans are raggedy and baggy. Shirt: a XL women's that is three sizes too large for her, and she has tied it at the bottom, creating a wrinkled look. 
I take a breath and gaze down at my notepad.)

What is something no one knows about you?

(She stares at me in silence. I know she's hesitant, who wouldn't be?)

I have a brother.
What makes you nervous?
People asking quesitons about me. 

(She smirks a little.)

What's your favorite time of day?
Time...

Thistles and needles
and small,
tiny thorns
stick in
stray fingers,
sounding horns

Gnashing their teeth
and scraping
their bones
The demons spit,
casting
deadly stones

Crushing our stories,
hopes
and dreams
Trampling beauty
and all
that gleams

Though through
the ruins
and raging red flames,
a hope clears the smoke
calling
our names

We must face
that
grand call,
arise
and stand tall

Share your stories!
Write
your world!
Let your gift
be
unfurled

What if something happened... Ralhi fretted, biting her nails.
Suddenly he was there.
His straight, black-as-night, golden-tipped hair fell over his lean shoulders, his cloak flapping behind him.The twilight rays shone on his blue-tinted skin. 
In but a moment's time they found themselves in one another's arms.His long fingers stroked her hair, untangling the tight knots.
"Durlön..." Sobs shook her shoulders.
"Shh. It's alright. We're together now."  
He lifted her chin and their lips met.
They parted for a moment, then he wiped a tear from her cheek and gave her one last kiss. 
Then he was gone.

Breath is love, without it we suffocate.


Hand-in-hand we twirled, wishing the moment would never end. 


Though through pain and tears, you were worth the wait.

In the light of the twilight moon, It sniffed the air, searching for the scent he had been following for so long now. There was the wind that smelled of pine trees and the lake that steadily lapsed a few yards away. Bushes of sagebrush and flowers drifted up to his nostrils. A small furry creature burrowing into the grou-
Ah, there it was. It could smell the sweet smell of the commoner. The makeup she had applied that morning. The plant-whipped scent of her clothes. And the scent of the blade that had sliced through that hair. 
It stood on his haunches, letting his nose guide him to his subject. 

She was up in the tree. Her face pressed up against the cool stone bark, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and her legs dangling from the tree limb's surface, she sat there. Her head throbbed with clear, cutting-stone pain that havened around her forehead and into her eyes, but also...

She was up in the tree. Her face pressed up against the cool stone bark, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and her legs dangling from the tree limb's surface, the girl sat there. Her head throbbed with clear, cutting-stone pain that havened around her forehead and into her eyes, but also reached down into the muscles of her spine and shoulders. Everything hurt.
The girl closed her red eyes, hoping to find some sort of release from the pain that so easily had visited her. But she was afraid that it was making its stay permanent. 
The girl, looking to be about thirteen years of age, had short, ear-length black and gray-twisted hair tucked beneath a deep blue hood. The fabric, smooth as it was, looked to be shimmering like rushing water against the wind and moon-lit sky. Small, delicate patterns depicting letters of a strange language and plants of nature embroidered the robe in the blackest of dark thread. 
A...

We don't know how we can, in this time of so much abundant money and food, have more poor and hungry than ever.
We don't know why we can't resolve it.
We don't know when it will end, if it ever will.
And we certainly haven't agreed on what the answer is.

The hearth yawned a large yawn, spouting great flames. The white and blue tongues flicked about their keeper’s jaws, thrashing for freedom, for play and for cool. It yearned to be white, to be chilly and cold. It thought its frames a disgrace, its color an ugly thing.
    As the pretty white flakes, delicate and sparkling, fell from the heavens, sprinkling upon the ground like sugar on a cookie, the fire longed to be like the snow. To be something that everyone talked about gleefully. Something that the children hoped for all season, that they played in, and loved.
No one ever said anything good about the fire. “Be careful—it will burn you!”, “It’s awfully hot,” and other things like that. While to the snow they said with joy, “Oh, how beautiful!”, “Lovely!” and all those wonderful comments.
Parents never let the children get close to the fire. “Don’t touch that!” They would yell with fear, grabbing the child...

The blanket was as soft as silk and fluffy as clouds. The smooth fabric rubbed against her cheek. JuRay grasped a handful of the cloth in her fists, squeezed, then rolled over onto her side. 
She opened her eyes, creating little slits on her face. The room was a dull color, mainly from the window being draped over with a torn cloth. One patch of sunlight, bright and a strange shape, shined through the drape, lighting a spot on her bed. 
Ju sat up, blinking the morning spots out of her dazed eyes. 
The floorboards creaked as she stumbled out of the covers, across her cluttered bedroom floor, and down the hallway towards the bathroom.
It was empty. Thankfully, that most likely meant that Drudge had already left for work. 
It was there as usual; the mirror. It gazed down at her with haughty displeasure, taunting her to look up. Ju knew the game far too well, so she kept...

Chocolate melting in your mouth
and splashing in puddles on rainy days.
Oh yes, life is a gorgeous thing.

The grasp of a babe’s delicate fingers
and a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day.
Oh yes, life is a meaningful thing.

A positive comment on your life’s work
and the encouraging hug of a friend.
Oh yes, life is a happy thing.

The kiss of a child’s soft, small lips
and the comfort of home.
Oh yes, life is a miraculous thing.

The stress and worry of finance
and unemployment issues.
Oh yes, life is a difficult thing.

The burden of death
and the loss of everything.
Oh yes, life is a terrible thing.

But as the sun rises every morning
and breezes shift your hair

As snow falls from the heavens
and crops continue on

A new hope takes its first breath
and you realize

Life is hard
but it’s worth it.

"'You know what's happening when it rains?"
"Um, it's raining?"
"Well, yeah. What what's really happening. Do you know?"
"Enlighten me, oh wise one!"
"Nope. You first."
"Fine. When it's raining water is falling from the sky." 
"OK."
"Now you."
"I think every raindrop is a single tear, shed by an angel."
"..."
"And they're all happy tears, because the angels are welcoming someone back home."
 

It’s a joyful stage
It’s a dreadful cage
It’s a blank page
And a solemn gage

A terrible curse
An empty universe

It’s a wonderful time
It’s a shameless crime
It’s a high climb
But a sublime lifetime

A glorious kiss
A wistful wish

It’s a happy trance
It’s a gleeful dance
It’s a chance
It only takes a second glance

Chocolate melting in your mouth
and splashing in puddles on rainy days.
Oh yes, life is a marvelous thing.

The grasp of a babe’s delicate fingers
and a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day.
Oh yes, life is a wonderful thing.

A positive comment on your life’s work
and the encouraging hug of a friend.
Oh yes, life is a happy thing.

The kiss of a child’s soft, small lips
and the comfort of home.
Oh yes, life is a miraculous thing.

The stress and worry of finance
and unemployment issues.
Oh yes, life is a difficult thing.

The burden of death
and the loss of everything.
Oh yes, life is a hard thing.

But as the sun rises every morning
and breezes shift your hair

As snow falls from the heavens
and crops continue on

A new hope takes its first breath
and you realize

Life is hard
but it’s worth it.

Steady, lapsing blue and foamy white waves crash up against the rocky shoreline. The rocks stand tall and firm, jutting out of the barely visible sand. Black and dark brown water stains stand on the rocks' sides where the ocean waves have slapped against it, splashing up onto the rocks. The blue water calms, slowly moving like a current of soldiers marching to war. The weapons rise, the soldiers run, smashing into their enemy. The waves create a loud splash as they collide with the rocks' sides. 
The salty water stings my nostrils, making them flare slightly at the sudden smell and reaction. A small smile spreads across my face as I watch the water from where I stand on one of the  higher rocks. The high-tide approaches, splashing foamy water onto my flip-flops and toes. I look up from the water and gaze into the artwork in front of me. 
The sun is setting, lowering itself behind the ocean...

The baby, her hair so light, as if every single strand of the thousands was a star shining against the blackest of night. The short strands, how they curled, and straightened, and bounced in such an odd yet glorious way. How in the back, all the hair seemed to be like an ocean wave, rolling and with a chaotic sort of harmony, and how the cowlick was like a coiled-up river snake with vibrant coils of soft. It was as if the brush was combing through fluffy clouds— it wass as if there was almost nothing there at all.
It was like brushing an angel’s hair.

December
it takes your breath away
With chilled bubbles of air
that escape your pink lips
and frosted tips of green grass

I love the glittering
balls of light
in the early darkness of night
and the holiday decorations
that make you look upon

December
it makes you stop and think
About the things you 
should be doing
and who you should be with

I love the Christmas parties
and the caroling at my door
with the brightened spirits
and the gift giving
and the wrapping presents

December
it spreads a smile on your face
With everyone smiling too
and hot chocolate
and candy canes

I love the swelling
of my heart
as I give a gift 
or recieve one
and all the shopping and crafts

December
it's beautiful
with the family,
friends,
and trees

I love the music 
in the air
and the snow flakes
falling
from the sky

December
it makes your heart flutter
Snowmen and snow angels ...

He flourished on a signature capability, spinning his vast intelligence around the twisted lines of complicated and intricate designs: the, to all but him, "puzzling" fabric of life. Agha knew the secrets of this smooth material, he knew all the little tweaks of life that interlocked themselves in schemes unfathomable to the average mind, and he was doing it: he was changing, altering the pattern of life, little by little and bit by bit. But today was the day of bigger change.
Today Agha Brar would create something completely new to the world.

The laboratory got extremely dark at night. Half the lights in the tall city would turn off, casting an eerie glow of what electrical appliances were left on in the late hours of twilight. Or so people thought the laboratory did. Only Agha and immediate family had ever been down there in that lonely abyss. It was actually very bright, with every single light in the place...

Sammi was bored. Bored out of her mind.
    The clock tick-tocked loudly, vibrating in her ears. Its flat, musty plastic face frowned, the hour hand pointing one tick mark past the fourth big one, the minute hand stretching to the seventh large, faded coal mark. The cheap, white paper behind seemed wrinkled and leathery where the hands stretched outward, as if they were forcing that frown, making the sad expression painful.
    Sammi kept staring, turning her little head this way and that, her chin resting in her soft palm. She’d been trying to cheer that face up, make him smile, maybe even giggle. But twenty minutes had gone by without one crack of a grin from that gloomy face. The longer black arrow had just ticked slowly by, seeming to torture his face even more so.
   But now her large adventurous mind capacity was craving for something other than trying to make a clock smile. Though the question unanswerede now...

Boston, New York
11:42 a.m.
November 23 2006

I'm not going to share this with anyone but myself. Alright?
Fine. Just promise, and no side questions. 
Let's get started. 

(I sit in a big coushy chair, directly across from my parton. I note the way her hair is purposefully styled; she wants to hide her eyes. The baseball cap that sits tightly over her brown hair saggs and is full of wrinkles and odd bulches. Her jeans are raggedy and baggy. Shirt: a XL women's that is three sizes too large for her, and she has tied it at the bottom, creating a wrinkled look. 
I take a breath and gaze down at my notepad.)

What is something no one knows about you?

(She stares at me in silence. I know she's hesitant, who wouldn't be?)

I have a brother.
What makes you nervous?
People asking quesitons about me. 

(She smirks a little.)

What's your favorite time of day?
Time...

Sammi was bored. Bored out of her skull.
    The clock tick-tocked loudly, vibrating in her ears. Its flat musty plastic face frowned, the hour hand pointing one tick mark past the fourth big one, the minute hand stretching to the seventh large faded coal mark. The cheap white paper behind seemed wrinkled and leathery where the hands stretched outward, as if they were forcing that frown, making the sad expression painful.
    Sammi stared at the clock’s face,  turning her little head this way and that, her chin resting in her soft palm. She’d been trying to cheer that face up, make him smile, maybe even giggle. But twenty minutes had gone by without one crack of a grin from that gloomy face. The longer black arrow had just ticked slowly by, seeming to torture his face even more so.
    She’d finally gotten bored, her large adventurous mind capacity craving for something other than trying to make a clock smile, but...

Big billowing clouds of a dark gray mass rumbled and grumbled from their perch above, belching the frozen liquid pulps down upon the humans below. The ice chunks bounced and clunked, shattered and pmmmmhed. All the city people cowered and ran for cover, trying to protect themselves and their surrounding peoples from the ice storm. It was a chaotic frenzy of sloshing hurried foot-steps and little shrieks from bystanders.
    But among that chaos, there stood a young girl. Her hair was plastered onto her face from the wet, and little red and pink bumps were forming on her skin, like small blisters. Her expression was perplexed with her brows risen high up on her forehead, mouth parted in astonishment, and eyes wide with something awfully similar to love. Even as the haled ice broke down onto the poor girl, she stood amazingly still, staring at something in the air. 
    And there it was. A bright red glistening...

She's the kind of person who only frowns when she's alone.

Crossing London

5 Seconds

Chemistry

Cranberries & Me 

A Inexplicable Story
 





 

Big billowing clouds of a dark gray mass rumbled and grumbled from their perch above, belching the frozen liquid pulps down upon the humans below. The ice chunks bounced and clunked, shattered and pmmmmhed. All the city people cowered and ran for cover, trying to protect them and their surrounding peoples from the ice storm. It was a chaotic frenzy of sloshing hurried foot-steps and little shrieks from by-standers.
    But among that chaos, there stood a small young girl. Her hair was plastered onto her face from the wet, and little red and pink bumps were forming on her skin, like little blisters. Her expression was perplexed with her brows risen high up on her forehead, mouth parted in astonishment, and eyes wide with soemthing awfully similar to love. Even as the haled ice broke down onto the poor girl, she stood amazingly still, staring at something in the air. 
    And there it was. A bright red...

The drops on his brow
Whiskers two different colors
His ear looks torn
Something's dried in his fur
Near his nose the grass is dark

My stomach clenches,
my breathing stops
"Dad!"
I never knew I could
sound so terrified

Dad runs to me
He must have heard
His face is panicked
then I point
him out

My chest is tight,
my body numb
He's dead.
The sobs come,
silently

Dad gets gloves
and a bag
He scoops him up, 
the cat so small
in his hands

I can't get it out
of my mind
That little gray kitty
Unmoving on the grass
Dark drops around his head

Freedom.

I write to escape. 

A lot of times I feel trapped in the world of daily chaos; I feel that I am in a small, sqaushed metal cage where I'm constantly tormented. 

Whether it's between me and a friend, a faimly member, or myself, I feel that I have to say the right, perfect things. That if I utter something even remotely wrong everything falls down that stairs quickly, and wiht a big boom at the end. I feel like I can't break loose from the barred cage and be myself because I am trying to be...perfect. I try to be someone I'm not.

When I write, I love the feeling as my fingers lightly grap the smooth coolness or warmness of the pen. The swift movement of my hand gliding accross the paper as words are somehow translated. I love the smeel of the paper. And I love the soft sound of the utensil pressing against the parchment....

It's up above

not down below

I see it now

it's like a show

With big bright lights

sometimes it shines

sometimes it doesn't

like twinkling dimes

It's got all the actors

and actresses too

the propts are all there

it's almost my cue

I walk on the stage

the lights are on me

the crowd is dead silent

now do you see?

The lights never die

but in the day-scenes 

They're always up there

behind the mountain of greens 

It's up above

not down below

we see it now

it's just like a show

 

 

 

 

 

A shudder. A tingle. A buzzing. A sigh. A push. A crash. A step. A gasp. A cringe. A thump. A warmth. A painful mutter. A breathe. A squeak. A step. A cringe. A step. Step. A limp. Limp. Limp. Limp. Limp. 

The shock. The pain. The shoe. The cringe. The walking. The limping. The pain. Again, again, again. 

Some wrap. Some guaze. Some pain. Some limping. Some questions. Some replies. Some nots. 

Twisting. Healing. Staying. Carefulness. Cautiousness. Secretiveness. 

 

I want to crawl in a deep, dark hole where all the sounds of life vanish and are replaced with the constant dripping of damp liquid that hangs in drops from the cavern ceiling. I want to look away and not see or hear anything, but it's hard. And pretty much impossible.

There they are. Each of them sit on a different seat in the old, tall, 15 passenger van. Mom in the passenger. Dad in the driver's. 

I can almost taste the resentment and tension in the air; that heavy gloom that shifts in the air between the two adults. Those emotions are so plain, yet they are out of focus. The ones I can immediately spot are usual: annoyance. Stress. Worry. Anxiety. Anger. 

They've just had another one of their occasional fights. It's never anything bad or too serious, actually, it's never even a fight. It's more of an argument about something little, even the most triffle thing. Theire worst, in my...

Did you ever say goodbye?

Did you ever see me cry?

When the tears fell down my face

You were nowhere near this place

When I called your name

There was pure claim

That you had left me

You left me

 

I smiled with you

I cried with you

But when you left

There was nothing

Loneliness

Shrouded me

You were nowhere

You left me

 

I had once been glee and glad

I had never been sad

We sang, danced and played

And laughed in the shade

I would smile when we talked

I would skip when we walked

But then you left me

You left me

 

I smiled with you

I cried with you

But when you left

There was nothing

Loneliness

Shrouded me

You were nowhere

You left me

 

You left me when you were needed most

You left me when I made a toast

to you

I cried and sulked

I pouted and...

She was up in the tree. Her face pressed up against the cool stone bark, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and her legs dangling from the tree limb's surface, the girl sat there. Her head throbbed with clear, cutting-stone pain that havened around her forhead and into her eyes, but also reached down into the muscles of her spine and shoulders. Everything hurt.

The girl closed her red eyes, hoping to find some sort of release from the pain that so easily had visited her. But she was afraid that it was making its stay permanent. 

The girl, looking to be about thirteen years of age, had short, ear-length black and gray-twisted hair tucked beneath a deep blue hood. The fabric, smooth as it was, looked to be shimmering like rushing water against the wind and moon-lit sky. Small, delicate patterns depicting letters of a strange language and plants of nature embroidered the robe in the blackest of black thread. 

A...

Three adjectives I would use to describe myself:

1. Shy

2. Crazy(a good crazy, though)

3. Random

 

Three questions that I have:

1. Why are things the way they are?

2. What am I supposed to write?

3. Why can't I be myself?

 

Three things very few people know about me:

1. I have a terrible memory

2. I L-O-V-E ice cream

3. I'm a talker. Get me to talk and I'll ramble on and on

 

Three pet peeves:

1. I get easily angered when poeple chew loud(even though I know I'm probably no the quiest chewer)

2. Metal forks scratching against, well, anything.

3. When everyone is talking at once

 

Three sources of comfort:

1. My journal

2. Reading a worth-while book

3. Writing...specifically about made-up worlds and characters

Her backpack slung sloppily across her back, black and white checkered sneakers squecking against the pavement, carmel brown hair blowing in the steady breeze. The sun was just rising over the mountain landscape around her little town. The roads were silent, the whole town was deathly quiet except the occasional buzz of life that blew through the yards of early morning-risers, already bending down to weed. 

A thick strand of Kayla's frizzy hair was wrapped around her pointer-finger. She spun it round and round, making the hair tighten. Her groggy, moring dazed eyes blinked a few times, still fresh out of bed. Her skin seemed to glow a little bit and the teenage ickiness that inhabitated her skin appeared to not be there. Her eyes were slightly squinted, still half asleep consiously.

Sleepy thoughts of the days upcoming events crowded her mind. It was the first day of school in her new house. Kayla, her mother, father, two brothers, and...

Everyhting seemed different then. The sky, the air, the people. Everything had been so much...less. So much, much less valiant and cherishable. Now, everything was more. It almost was a nothing. But nothing is a something. I've experienced it. Felt it soak into my heart and bury itself into my chest, filling me with its... something, whatever that something may be. 

I've felt the emptiness when we didn't have anything, not even a nothing. I've felt the blankness when we didn't know what anything was...what anything could be. We didn't know. 

Then it all changed. That one, one second that flooded through the gales of wind, blowing into our system and filling us with an actual something. 

I felt sorrow. I saw lives flash before my eyes, blinking in and out like a fast-note on the keys on piano. It was painful. It was horrid. I cried for the first time ever. I felt things. I felt.

Then I felt...

I'm that girl that everyone...well, let's be honest, is annoyed with. No one's ever said it to my face, but I can see it in their sudden tensness in their shoulders, the shifted silence, and especially in their eyes. Those glistening eyeballs say everything. 

I'm the girl that sits in the corner, silent and shy, puting on that pretend smile that people smile back to. I listen to their conversations, not really being nosy, just trying to inch my way further into the group. I just sit back in the shadows, listening, smiling, laughing.

I'm the one that people never talk to. I know it might be because I'm shy and I don't really talk to them, but I'm too fearful to take the first leap. When I do talk, the conversation usually ends right there and silence falls over everyone as they shift around or smile nervously, then they start up a whole new topic, swatting me aside like...

I wish there was no illness

I wish there was no pain

I wish there was no sadness

and people did not strain

 

I wish there was no such thing as stress

and families broken apart

I wish that the world wasn't such a mess

and people wouldn't depart

 

I wish there were more summer days

and friends to share it with

I wish my smile would last longer

and death was just a myth

 

I wish there was no hunger

I wish there were no poor

I wish we saw ourselves as equals

instead of the boat and the oar

 

I wish I had words to express

the feelings in my heart

I wish others might understand

before I break apart

 

I wish things were easier

and maybe sweeter too

I wish it wasn't so tough

so it was simpler to make it through

 

But I know that we will 

hold 'till the end

And fight our...

Everyhting seemed different then. The sky, the air, the people. Everything had been so much more. So much, much more valiant and cherishable. Now, all we have is nothing. Nothing. Nothing is a something, though. I've experienced it. Felt it soak into my heart and bury itself into my chest, filling me with its... something, whatever that something may be. 

I've felt the emptiness when we didn't have anything, not even a nothing. I've felt the blankness when we didn't know what anything was...what anything could be. We didn't know. 

Then it all changed. That one, one second that flooded through the gales of wind, blowing into our system and filling us with an actual something. 

I felt sorrow. I saw lives flash before my eyes, blinking in and out like a fast-note on the keys on piano. It was painful. It was horrid. I cried for teh first time ever. I felt things. I felt.

Then I felt...

Steady, lasping blue and foamy white waves crash up against the rocky shorline. The rocks stand tall and firm, jutting out of the barely visible sand. Black and dark brown water stains stand on the rocks' sides where the ocean waves have slapped against it, splashing up onto the rocks. The blue water clams, slowly moving like a current of soliders marching to war. The weapons rise, the soliders run, smashing into their enemy. The waves create a loud splash as they collide with the rocks' sides. 

The salty water stings my nostrils, making them flare slightly at the sudden smell and reaction. A small smile spreads across my face as I watch the water from where I stand on one of the  higher rocks. The high-tide approaches, splashing foamy water onto my flip-flops and toes. I look up from the water and gaze into the artwork in front of me. 

The sun is setting, lowering itself behind the ocean...

I wish there was no illness

I wish there was no pain

I wish there was no sadness

and that people did not strain

 

I wish there was no such thing as stress

and families broken apart

I wish that the world wasn't such a mess

and that people wouldn't depart

 

I wish there were more summer days

and friends to share it with

I wish my smile would last longer

I wish death was just a myth

 

I wish there was no hunger

I wish there were no poor

I wish people would see us all as equals

instead of the boat and the oar

 

I wish I had words to express

the feeling in my heart

I wish others might understand

before I break apart

 

I wish things were easier

and maybe sweeter too

I wish it wasn't so tough

so it was simpler to make it through

 

But I know that...

It was late Saturday night. Where I lay on a soft cream-colored blanket, the sky stared down at me with such immensity, it made the backs of my eyeballs hurt.

    The sky was a dark, bleeding black, dyed with a dark, dark blue that seemed to have soaked in, giving it a natural look. White stars glittered up against the darkness, illuminating the blue to have a white-ish tone around them. Patterns, natural and almost undetectable, sat askew in the millions of little lights. In the glow of pale moonlight, I extended my left hand up. My fingers traced their way around the now-seemingly smaller stars. Then my hand grasped one that looked larger than the rest. I closed my hand around it, then brought the cupped hand down to my mouth. My lips pecked my fingers that had danced along the star’s sides. Then I put it slipped it carefully into my shirt pocket.

A smile on my face,...

My back bends awkwardly, my knees press up against my chest, and my feet curl up as tight as they can go. Something sharp and cold sticks into my back. I can feel warm and sticky liquid traveling slowly down my back’s skin, but I ignore the pain and stay focused on making no noise. I try not to breathe, but my breath seems to want to come out right at this moment. The worst possible moment for me to be breathing.

I suck in, feeling my nostrils flare, wanting to puff out the air that lingers in my lungs. My brain tells me to exhale, but I ignore the steady warning. If I breathe out that will mean me being found.

The terror claws mercilessly at my chest. If I am found, it’s game over. That is, for me. Cautious. Clever. Patient. I remind myself slowly. If I even slightly penetrate any of those three rules, I’m a goner....

"I don't mean to be angry and awful. I know I'm being selfish and I can't help it. I feel like I'm about to be pushed into the blackest darkness. It feels like I'm four years old again, and I want my Mommy." As the tears streamed down her face, Jim stroked her hair. He wanted to pass on the comfort he now felt in his heart, but he knew no words for it. He laid his head against Kristen's and silently prayed for his daughter.

Jim felt the warm tears dropping onto his wrists, soaking into his skin. The prayer wasn't long, nor was it short. There seemed to be no length to the words and phrases he spoke to God, pleading for guidance and comfort for Kristen specifically, and all those struggling as they. The words came smoothly and quickly. Time passed slowly as he said that simple prayer. 

By the time he opened his eyes and looked up,...