Kepler

United States of America

Does anyone read these?

Message from Writer

"Tell them I've had a wonderful life"

Last words of Ludwig Wittgenstein

Published Work

Just a thought

Look around you.

See those primates, going about their day? Those are called people, and as people, we're all in this together.

So don't look at who they voted for, the color of their skin, who they love, what God they pray to, if any at all. Yes, we might have different opinions and beliefs, and yes sometimes we fight. But we're all still people, so why can't we all act like it.

Our personalities, quirks, and things that make us happy can all be different, but deep down inside, we're really not that different.

Random Question....

Sooo...... Did anyone other than me play Animal Jam when they were younger???? And is anyone else excited that they're releasing a new version for older kids!!!! :D

VSCO is Secretly a Cult // Part 1

Abby's heart was racing, just like the wind beyond her bedroom window. As she packed her backpack full of all slumber-party neccesities, she ran over the required information in her mind. Essentially any lie she had to invent to blend in with the crowd.

-She had a crush, Rudolph
-She must say "sksksksks", as well as "and-i-oop", but not too much
-No Harry Potter references
-Her tik tok account (TikkityTokkityLookyHereSpokkity)
-No, she did not spend her weekends reading
-Yes, she loved forever 21

The mask which she had been wearing for the past two months seemed to be growing thinner by the second. She held her breath as she begrudgingly equipped herself with scrunchies, shell necklaces, and shorts that might as well have been called undergarments. Just then, the phone rang.

"What do you want." She said poisonously. While she understood why she had been chosen for this position, she still was unhappy about it. Through the phone, she heard Heather...

Random Thing to Laugh at No.1

I just played ping pong with my friend at youth group... except we played it with stickynotes and rubber salami as the ball, and I was wearing a chicken mask.

Raindrops

I like the way raindrops feel on my face
When I stare up into the crying sky
Bursting with every great sob
The thing about rain is that
When the sky's finished crying
It smiles again

Or maybe the sky cries tears of joy
Joy from all the sunshine
Because if the sky didn't cry
Then the whole world would dry up
So you've got to let the sky cry

But when it's done crying you get to feel the sun

Yeah, that's about right

You live for the sun, because of the rain.

Two Strange Friends

It was a dusky sort of time that two strangers should find themselves meeting on the hillside, not planning on having company on that given evening. A girl was lying down, eyes closed, with the sunlight barely cresting her face, illuminating her face for the world to admire. There it was that Jay found himself staring a strange girl who lay where he usually did, unsure of what to do.
 
The girl seemed to be sleeping, and he did not want to intrude on her peacefulness, so he made to leave quietly when he heard her speak.

"It's alright with me if you stay." Her voice was not quiet, but it wasn't loud. It was just enough to be heard as if she meant it clearly.

Jay stood for a moment and then sat down beside her. She had amber hair, and when she opened her stormy blue eyes, a whisper of a smile spread across her face.

"I'm...

Two Strange Friends

It was a dusky sort of time that two strangers should find themselves meeting on the hillside, not planning on having company on that given evening. A girl was lying down, eyes closed, with the sunlight barely cresting her face, illuminating her face for the world to admire. There it was that Jay found himself staring a strange girl who lay where he usually did, unsure of what to do.

The girl seemed to be sleeping, and he did not want to intrude on her peacefulness, so he made to leave quietly when he heard her speak.

"It's alright with me if you stay." Her voice was not quiet, but it wasn't loud. It was just enough to be heard as if she meant it clearly.

Jay stood for a moment and then sat down beside her. She had amber hair, and when she opened her stormy blue eyes, a whisper of a smile spread across her face.

"I'm Phoebe."...

A Good Ship

    "LAURA AND TOM FELTON FOREVER!!!" Katelyn shouted, Laura, rolled her eyes and nervously glanced around to see if anyone had heard what Katelyn had said. Luckily, the halls were cleared.  
    "Just because nobody's here doesn't mean it's not TRUE!!!" Katelyn said in a sing-song voice. Laura's teacher had let her back to the classroom seeing as both of them had managed to forget their IDs. Laura wished with all her heart she had remembered hers, so she wouldn't have to listen to Katelyn.
    Laura hadn't told anyone about her crush on Tom Felton... In fact, she had faked a crush on someone else to distract everyone from the idea of it. Somehow, Katelyn had managed to figure out Laura's secret love for him. Laura suppressed a giggle. She secretly loved the ship name, and the way Tom Felton smiled and laughed, and the way his brown eyes gleamed with joy. She loved the way...

The Definition of Hippo

"The hippo was quite an interesting hippo, and an interesting hippo was he.

With big eyes like bars of soap, and twelve wings down his back. His twelve horns scattered away anything that got in his path. His quiet paws kept him from making a sound when he touched the ground, and his scaly back did not match his furry stomach. His five eyes glowed in the night and his breath of putrid fire could burn anything in his path."

"That's not a hippo!"

"Sounds more like a goat!"

"No, it's a chicken."
 
The first speaker replied with ease, "It's a hippo." and he left it at that.

Play Doh

There's just a crime in itself. The way he acts about it too, as if it were no big deal. Just to get on my nerves. It's just too far, too far indeed. What kind of person does that? Did it bring him some sort of joy to see my suffering?

As he carried out his crime, I watched, begging him to stop. 

You don't mix two different colors of play-doh.

You.

Just. 

Don't.

The Dog Who Walks Himself

    I was never fond of sleeping. When I was young I lay bored in my sleeplessness, thinking about things long forgotten. I rarely looked out my window, for I couldn't see out of it well, but now I know if I had, I would have seen the dog who walks himself.
    The dog who walks himself is an old fellow, with three legs and then another that drags behind him. You can't see his glowing eyes, for his overgrown fur hangs down over them, and his long tail hovers above the ground as he walks. He's got an ear and a half, but hears more than most, and he sings to the moon with a deep throated howl that would kill the world if it could only come alive.
    Yes, that's the dog who walks himself.
    He's got no collar or leash. He doesn't need a tag to tell him who he...

Preschool Rebellions

    I was never overly fond of sand. I had no dislike for it, but I just never grew to love the gritty substance that got all over everything. However, I was a little rebel in preschool, and despite my dislike for sand, and despite having no reason to go over to the sandy side of the playground, I got in my head that that was what I was to do.
    For a bit of context, the playground at my preschool was split into two parts, one of sand, where the younger kids were left to go a-frolicking, and the other of grass, where my age group was left to roam free, constrained only by a chain-link fence that, despite our efforts, we couldn’t climb. The two areas were divided by a gate, that was conveniently unlocked and unguarded. 
One day, my preschooler self moved my mental state from thinking about My Little Pony, to deciding that I was...

Album Review Competition 2019

My Mismatched Playlist

Here I am. Eating my second protein bar of the day alone in the kitchen, waiting for my bowl of microwavable rice to cool down so I can eat and go finish my homework. Sunlight's pouring in through the kitchen windows and illuminating everything I can see.

Sunlight hits my eyes, and I just watch the blank wall. I have headphones in. I'm listening to edgy music, recommended to me by one of my buddies. In the back of my mind, I'm not listening to music, I'm going to the world where only sound exists. I love music. Sometimes when I hear a new song, I'll listen to it several times in a row before actually just adding it to my perfectly crafted playlist.

This was all a few days ago, and I don't remember every rhythm, rhyme, note, or rest. However, I remember the feeling, and that I closed my eyes and listened to the words. I let my...

A Bad Idea ;)

Based on a True Story
Dedicated to: My tolerant friends.



I should have known it was a bad idea from the very beginning.

When it gets to the point where you're having a discussion via text with your friend about who's bringing the hydrogen peroxide to a birthday party, you've crossed a line. 

Yeah, this is my life.

...

It all started with me watching YouTube. Now, if you know me, you know that when I watch YouTube I tend to get some interesting ideas. My viewing history decorated with TED Talks, animations, comedy, and other nonsense. As I was wrapping up my TED Talk, I saw that Mark Rober had uploaded a new video, in which he made Elephant's toothpaste. A sort of chemical reaction with household materials. I'll spare you the details, if you want to make it, just google it. It's not hard. 

So after watching the entire thing, I got it in my head that this...

GUYS I FULLY INGESTED THE STRAW!!!

For those of you who don't know, I just ate a plastic straw. Check out my other piece for details.







Guys, I did it. I ate the straw. It took me like two hours and my tongue is scratched and sore, but I did it. I'm so proud of myself.  I would like to thank all of my friends for supporting me, and the company that made them, and my mom who bought them.

Thanks, this is like, my biggest accomplishment of today, which is saying something since I took the PSAT. I'm very pleased.

Thanks to everyone who supported me.

I am so truly grateful.

Kepler out

I'm Eatin' a Straw

Earlier today, I went to get a straw for my soda. What I saw was just a bad decision waiting to happen.

 My mom.

She bought.
























COMPOSTABLE STRAWS!!!!!



Now, any other person would have been like "Oh that's cool." And went on with life.


Not me.


Haha, nope.

SOOOOOO... It just so happens that I'm trying to eat a straw right now. The best part is I'm succeeding. It's scratching my throat, it tastes bad, and it's probably gonna cut up my stomach, but by the end of today, I will have eaten a straw. I also got to have this dialogue:


Me: I'm eating a straw are you proud of me?
Dad: yes *leaves my room*

This isn't weird either.


I love my life.

Kepler Out.

My Hands

My hands.

These hands.

They are my hands.

I don't coat my fingernails in paint like other girls. I don't perfectly cut my nails. 

My hands are smeared with marker, and I wear a lonely watch. I don't usually wear bracelets because they get in the way of my hands. And rings get stuck on my fingers. When I get married, maybe I'll tattoo a ring on my hand, so that it's forever, and it won't slip off. I do wear a watch. Loose enough that it doesn't hurt, tight enough that it feels like part of my arm.

And I wear a hairband on my other wrist. My hair is barely long enough to fit, but it comes in useful, like when Grant wants to make a slingshot, or Anabelle needs to pull her significantly longer hair back.

My hands aren't long, slender and dainty like the hands of other girls. They're stubby, and wide. More useful, stronger. 

My...

Ceramics

Broken ceramics

Just pretty pieces of broken dishes. Scattered on the floor. This shard has a flower on it. and this one has a golden streak.

Broken dishes.

I pick one up. I hold it up next to the sun so I can see how pretty it is. Just a pretty dish. Little bluebirds sing silent songs. A faded rainbow here. A dove and a cross there.

Nobody lives here anymore. 
Nobody visits either. Except me.

I broke the dishes when I was young. I climbed up on the counter of the abandoned house and stared through the window at the sea, and I fell. I grabbed the box of dishes, and they fell around me. Shattering. 

I didn't feel sorry.

Every day I come back. I stare at my dishes. I let them tell me stories. I lay them together on the table all alone, and somedays I put them back together to watch them fall apart.

Shattered. 

I...

Nothing and Everything

Nothing in life is simple. Books have metaphors. Lights fade out. I will write this piece in a way that everything is simple.

I will write this as it is.
I will write everything simple.
I want this to be simple.
I want everything to be simple.
I will even use only simple sentences.
That may get on your nerves though.
I am telling you this now.
I don't want you to have to think.
That would not be very simple.
Thinking is sometimes hard.

I like the way the sun shines. I don't love it, I like it. It turns everything warm. It casts one color of light. It's simple. 


____________________________________________________________________________________________________________



I never want anything to be simple. Never. Books are written with beautful wprds because the words have meanings and those meanings have meanings and that makes you feel things and that makes you who you are. Lights turn dark because without light there is dark and when...

Yellow

Yellow is my favorite color.

Laura likes black, Liv likes green, Austin likes red, and Ali likes many colors. 

Foosh likes "Dark lime beige purple with a hint of yellow, a drop of black, three green sprinkles and a side of glitter."

I like yellow.

Yellow is the color of sparkling sunshine. Yellow is the color of happy flowers blooming despite the rain. Yellow is the color of my favorite jacket with giant pockets and a cozy hood.

Yellow is the word you say when you answer the phone. Yellow is the color of a few of my folders for school. Yellow is the color of the rubber ducks that I brought in my backpack and laughed at with my friends. Yellow is the color of the walls in my living room from when I can barely remember.

That's not why I like yellow.

I like yellow because nobody else likes yellow.

Yellow is the color of vomit. Yellow is...

Mud and Mascara

    I knew you once.

    But of course that was a different you. Not the you I see somedays in the halls, not the you I see with your new friends that are different from me. I remember a different you. A freer you. I remember a you that caked their face in mud and not mascara. I remember a you that would play make believe and wasn't afraid to tell people that. I remember laughing with you, I remember watching the sky, I remember being happy and free. Now you've changed. I've changed too.
    It's not like you hate me now. It's not like I hate you now. We're just not friends. I smile at you in the halls, and so do you. But only if we make eye contact. I don't really know what to think about you anymore. I don't think I'm a new me. Just a more evolved, same me. And...

Trembling

I'm trembling.
Cold wind is tickling the edges of my clothes, and I'm trembling.

Thunder hits the ground and now the trees are trembling too.
Forcefully. 

Trembling.

Leaves swept away by the sky. 
​Trembling.

Stars shimmer overhead. 
Trembling.

Strings on your violin. They're trembling. 

Somewhere I'll never go, a quill scratches paper quickly.
Trembling.

Tears slide down someone's face, far away. Someone I'll never meet. 
Trembling.

Flickering lights in the house on the hill, due north.
They're trembling.

Everything's trembling.

Everything's trembling, but nothing's afraid.

Mrs. Aintoinette

    Mrs. Aintoinette had a reputation in the small town. Nobody dared specify good or bad. Why, Mrs. Aintoinette was the one to assign reputations! Nobody could assign a reputation to the assigner of reputations! Why, that would ruin their reputation! All this confused young Lily, and Lily wasn't often confused by things. Anyways, Lily always watched Mrs. Aintoinette get her groceries. Often times Lily would be playing with a sewn-together ball in the streets when Mrs. Aintoinette would walk by, her shoes click-clacking along the street.
    "Why Mrs. Aintoinette, you look so pretty today." The postman would say politely, tipping his hat to the middle-aged woman. But Mrs. Aintoinette would merely scowl at the gentle fellow and continue on her way, throwing him a rather unhappy facial expression.
    Mrs. Aintoinette was not married, but she had been. Her husband had been a rich man, this was obvious, but nobody knew much about her. All...

Falling

Somedays, it seems like all my friends are falling in love. 
Some love it.
Some deny it.
Some don't even care who they're falling for, they just like to fall.
Not me.
Oh no.
I won't fall.
I've got a limp, and somedays I trip on my own feet.
Somedays I get pushed.
I won't fall though.
Oh no I won't.
Maybe one day, someone will fall for me.
And I'll try to help him up.
But if he doesn't get up, then maybe I'll fall down next to him.
We can lie on the hillside, and watch the stars come out. 

Six-Word Story

Truth

Two more questions, broken pencil lead.

Daisy-May and the Sky

    Daisy-May stares at the sky.
    It doesn't matter the weather. It doesn't matter the season. It doesn't matter the place. What matters to Daisy-May is that she stares at the sky.
    At recess, she sits on a bench, neck thrown back, eyes unblinking. Because that's what Daisy-May does. She stares at the sky. She likes to lie in her backyard at night and watch the stars. She likes to watch the sun set. She likes to watch clouds paint the sky, breezes blowing them into shapes. She likes to let them tell her a story.
    One day her teacher asked her why.
    "I like to watch simple things change."
    Daisy-May stares at the sky. She watches the clouds. She watches the stars. She watches the sun. She watches the moon. Daisy-May thinks that if everyone stared at the sky, they would like it too. 
    But She's the only...

The Broken Rose

    I don't know where the broken rose came from. Neither do you, but it's pretty. And I like watching it. It floats on the water, petals surrounding it. There's so many petals it's hard to believe it's all from one rose. 
    It's crimson. Barely pink. Maybe a touch more red than that. I like the color, and I don't usually like pink. You say you would have had it more red. I comment that I wouldn't have had it any other way. You shrug.
    "I guess."
     I shrug too, but for a different reason.
    I see it drifting, so do you. It's so far away, I can't even tell if it's real. You disagree.  
    "It's real. I can see it."
    I tilt my head. 'Maybe, but what if there are the little threads that hide its truth? What would you say if I swam all the way out to the broken...

One-Liner

Spinning

The whole world is spinning, and there's nothing I can do to stop it... So I'll just hold on for the ride.

Seventy-Four

The number read seventy-four.
Seventy-four out of one hundred.
Seventy-four of one hundred problems correct.
Almost three quarters.
Almost three quarters was good.
If you owned almost three-quarters of the world, you'd have a very big yard.
The teacher shook her head.
"No. Look here. You missed twenty-six out of one hundred problems."
A confused look.
And then a frown.
More than one quarter.
Was she not good enough for the extra more than one quarter?
The first number read seventy four. 
She had seventy four, but someone else had the other twenty six.
And that was all she could think about.

The House at the End of Elm Street

    At the very end of Elm Street, past the twist in the road, past the house with the dogs that barked all day, and past the house with the garden that was too pretty to belong. Past the house where the grass grew unkept, and past the house with a village of birdhouses. Past the house where the tulips bloomed, but only in the spring, and past the house with the old oak. There, past the house with a front porch covered in ivy, there was a small green house with a stone fence. The house was not large, but anyone who walked by seemed to know that whoever lived there must be happy. The house was just too cozy for anything else.
    The woman who lived there was young. She must have just come from college, but nobody knew where. She kept a small dog, a corgi, who barked only at the quietest moments, and she took...

Seventy-Four

The first number read seventy-four.
Seventy-four out of one hundred.
Seventy-four of one hundred problems correct.
Almost three quarters.
Almost three quarters was good.
If you owned almost three-quarters of the world, you'd have a very big yard.
The teacher shook her head.
"No. Look here. You missed twenty-six out of one hundred problems."
A confused look.
And then a frown.
More than one quarter.
Was she not good enough for the extra more than one quarter?
The first number read seventy four. 
She had seventy four, but someone else had the other twenty six.
And that was all she could think about.

Colors of Life

    When he was young, he painted with colors. Oh! And the colors he used! He painted with all of the colors in the rainbow, and then a few more. He painted with the brightest oranges on tigers and the deepest blues for the depths of the sea. He felt only joy with each stroke of paint across the canvas. 
    He colored on the wall of his bedroom with his colored pencils, yet his mother saw no crime in it. It was simply too beautiful to be painted over. 
    Before he went to school, he used only paint, for when he tried the crayons, or the pencils, or markers, or truthfully anything else, he was unsatisfied. He wanted to make his own colors! He wanted to smear the fine liquid across the canvas, watching rivers of green, and sparks of blue fly across his piece. He loved moving the brush just so to get the...

Colors of Life

    When he was young, he painted with colors. Oh! And the colors he used! He painted with all of the colors in the rainbow, and then a few more. He painted with the brightest oranges on tigers and the deepest blues for the depths of the sea. He felt only joy with each stroke of paint across the canvas. 
    He colored on the wall of his bedroom with his colored pencils, yet his mother saw no crime in it. It was simply too beautiful to be painted over. 
    Before he went to school, he used only paint, for when he tried the crayons, or the pencils, or markers, or truthfully anything else, he was unsatisfied. He wanted to make his own colors! He wanted to smear the fine liquid across the canvas, watching rivers of green, and sparks of blue fly across his piece. He loved moving the brush just so to get the...

Colors of Life

    When he was young, he painted with colors. Oh! And the colors he used! He painted with all of the colors in the rainbow, and then a few more. He painted with the brightest oranges on tigers and the deepest blues for the depths of the sea. He felt only joy with each stroke of paint across the canvas. 
    He colored on the wall of his bedroom with his colored pencils, yet his mother saw no crime in it. It was simply too beautiful to be painted over. 
    Before he went to school, he used only paint, for when he tried the crayons, or the pencils, or markers, or truthfully anything else, he was unsatisfied. He wanted to make his own colors! He wanted to smear the fine liquid across the canvas, watching rivers of green, and sparks of blue fly across his piece. He loved moving the brush just so to get the...

Human Connections Essay Competition 2019

Who I've Learned to Read

    I began learning to read in preschool. 
    I could read, words like "cat" and "dog". I could sound out some simple phrases. By the end of third grade, I had read Harry Potter. 
    I began reading people when I opened my eyes. Different faces, the way their eyes would scrunch up when they were happy, and when they were sad. The way people would laugh at things because they were happy, or because they didn't feel like being sad. The way a tilted head could mean a question, boredom, love, or frustration. 
    It got a lot harder than I thought it would be.
    I didn't realize that I was still reading my sight words. I thought I was already on Moby Dick. I wasn't reading wrong, but instead, people were writing wrong. When I read "sad" as "happy" I just decided it a typo, not a mistake in my reading. ...

Click, Click, Click.

Footsteps on the marble floor.
    Click.
        Click.
            Click.

Coming closer.
Her heart pounded in her chest. 
    Thump.
        Thump.
            Thump.

Terror shot down her spine as the door flew open. She stared wide-eyed.
    "Found you!" He cackled.
Slowly, she stood up. She looked him straight in the eye.
    Blink.
        Blink.
            Blink.

She whirled around and began counting. Her eyes shut tight.
    "One."
        "Two."
            "Three."
A hundred numbers flew by. 
    "Ready or not, here I come!!!" She laughed, running down the hall.

Footsteps on the marble floor.
    Click.
        Click.
            Click.

Micro Memoir

Underwater

    Darkness. It engulfed me. I sat there at the bottom of the lake, with my eyes squeezed shut as the cool water consumed me. This was the best place to think, to dream, to wish. Thoughts of happiness, guilt, sadness, love, joy, and wonder filled my head and my heart, and I felt like I was the only person in the world. It was perfect, and I felt peace. Yet a part of me despised it, this peace. I shouldn't act like life was this easy. However, for a moment, I could pretend it was.

    I imagined the places I loved, with the people I loved. Laughter in every moment. Happiness bubbled through me. Blissful ignorance, with truly nothing that would keep me from joy. I could see moments that would never happen, moments that might happen, and I was sure, would happen. I finally opened my eyes... I had only been under water for a few seconds,...

The Plague Under Your Desk

    Just the other day I was on my way up the stairs to science class. Not an unfamiliar thing, but today I was holding the rail. As I made my way up the stairs, talking to a friend, I discovered that somebody had booby-trapped the stairwell. On the side of the rail facing the wall, there was an old piece of gum, sitting there like some sort of twisted biological weapon. Disgusting. Keep in mind that I have first lunch, so after I dropped off my stuff, it was right to lunch. I was very thankful that Natalie had hand sanitizer.
    Everyone I’m sure has a similar situation, and nobody appreciates it. Such actions have lead to gum being ‘banned’ in school. Not that it matters anyway, since the people that committed such offenses in the first place still chew it. This is especially frustrating since a study found that chewing gum improved test scores.  Anyways, there are plenty...

The Plague Under Your Desk

    Just the other day I was on my way up the stairs to science class. Not an unfamiliar thing, but today I was holding the rail. As I made my way up the stairs, talking to a friend, I discovered that somebody had booby-trapped the stairwell. On the side of the rail facing the wall, there was an old piece of gum, sitting there like some sort of twisted biological weapon. Disgusting. Keep in mind that I have first lunch, so after I dropped off my stuff, it was right to lunch. I was very thankful that Natalie had hand sanitizer.
    Everyone I’m sure has a similar situation, and nobody appreciates it. Such actions have lead to gum being ‘banned’ in school. Not that it matters anyway, since the people that committed such offenses in the first place still chew it. This is especially frustrating since a study found that chewing gum improved test scores.  Anyways, there are plenty...

Passion

I've heard people ask about a hundred times, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Then I've heard one man at career day, say "What problem do you want to solve?" and then there are those 'deep' people, who say "Who do you want to be when you grow up?"

Well, I've got to say that all of these questions frustrate me. When I was little, I wanted to be a Veterinarian, but after taking the Human Body unit and science, I have learned that that was probably not a good choice. When you ask a person what they want to be, you are asking to broad of a question. The jobs that exist today might not exist in the future, and I know that until very recently I had not thought about a career in the way I do now. What I'm trying to say, is that people focus too much on the label. A teacher...