Poem from 11th grade, written to the one who has been lost and in pain

Can you understand the feeling?

Of having nothing to live for,

but a dream, a hope

To fly, to soar,

but eventually crash

To crash is a dream too.

There is no way to describe how I feel

When my heart gets ripped out of my chest

I wake up,

and realize it is just a dream

Never to happen

Never to be you with me

Never to be all of us

Blast it, headphones, blast it

Just to remember

Just to forget

Play my life away

While you sing me a song,

on the telephone

And to cry

To cry ones-self asleep

Just to dream of soaring,

Just to dream of crashing,

Just to be happy forever

But to eventually wake up

Completely void of motivation

You thought I was helpless back then...



















You should see me today

I fucked up

Why can't it be like it was back in September?



I was so damn happy, I thought that I'd be happy for eternity.






I guess good things never last for me.













What do I always do wrong?

Valentine's Day

Happy Singles Awareness Day



Fuck this Hallmark holiday.


Peaceout

Free Write

For my 3rd hour creative writing class. Was due on Friday Feb 1st, 2008.

      The bustle of a crowd along the much-traveled carpet. The scent of neutrality that is brought when plastics and perfumes, ties and t-shirts, cats and carpeting, tickets and toilet training 3-year-olds, all mingle in the same area, all in the same, dense, stress filled bucket of disgusting air. This is my every weekend, my escape to the extraordinary. This is my home, my home away from home, my finger and my footprints, the only thing I know for 2 hours waiting to get there and a short, slow walk to get out, and get back to the normality of my everyday. Escape, this is my escape to the deep, low, pounding feeling that I expect before my ascent toward the charming, yet so false life that awaits me upon the screech of tire and air against the pavement.
      "May I see your I.D.?"
      "Huh? Oh yea...sure," I say when I realize that somebody is talking to me as I stand in front of a shining screen, apparently done with my check-in. I rummage through my purse and pull out that God forsaken, government issued, nation identification. The tapping of the lady's shoe pounds in my head like an offbeat heart until I finally hand her the item that she had requested from me with such haste and disregard.
      "Alright then, here are your tickets and baggage claim studs. Gate 10," says the lady. I am again enveloped in the blurry bustle of the crowd. The cold and mindless stares of adults attempting to escape from their lies, just as I had attempted to escape so many times before, they are are clad in diaper bags and little hands, never again able to escape this way. The little arms cling to legs, the little bodies sleep in plush, and the little mouths cry lime the devil had asked them to punish themselves for throwing their carrots on the floor.
      I'm not a terrorist, but you believe I am, you put men and women to search in canvas, leather, plastics, skin and care seat. I stare into the abyss of a man who doesn't care anymore, who tells me to step through that void into the surreal, and doesn't take a second look at me. I am dangerous, I promise, check me. Freckled, hazel eyes beg him, but he just moves on to the next person waiting to escape, unaware of any danger that might be posed by this petite, Hollister clad, senior in high school.
      The reason why I am dangerous? Simply, I'm a danger to myself I put myself through the motions every weekend, every walk to the counter, every ticket, every inch of myself being rejected for inspection of the threats I could pose. Yet, they do not see it, no matter how many times they check me. They do not see this ticket is why I am so dangerous, this escape is a danger to me. I am a liar, I am a thief of my own person. Stolen, every inc h my sanity has been stolen in the take offs, the beer fart seats, the repetition of wails and pee breaks, the landings when I finally arrive at this place where I live a second life.
      Maybe if I stay this time, no longer taking off and landing, I could rebuild myself.

Vote

Don't forget to vote.
It's the most important thing you can do for your country.

Writings

This is a compilation of writings I found in my old Freshman English notebook.

Lemme Go (11/30/04)

I prepare for departure:
      Seatbelt fasioned
     The way they showed up
           'Cause they think we're incompetent
     They are just doing their job
           ...I guess
My head starts racing
     We have stared moving
           I'm not scared of airplanes
           Or even height
     We get farther away from home
           This is the fact that scares me
           Where is my home town?
     Hometown staying behind
           I guess it's me that's moving
I hear the engines roar
     The plane gets faster
     We take off
           My head spins
           "No, don't make me leave"
     I say it all in my head
I am up in the air
     Getting farther away
           "Don't make me leave.."
     A silent, hidden thought
I remember this morning
     Kissing the house I grew up in
           "Good bye"
      Family memories left behind
           "lemme go back home.."
     Last time that house will be seen
           by my eyes at least
I had tears running down my face
           In my mind
     Like they were this morning?
           ...Yes
My ears pop and I look out
     Looking out a tiny little window
     Farther away from home
           "What will happen now?"
I'm scared
     Sailing in the sky
           I'm away from who I used to be
I now question if this is a good thing

Untitled (April 2005)

My life is a little too slow for my tastes. [But I guess it's for my own good.] I always wanted to grow up, so I can be who I wanna be. Yet, there are steps along the way that are such great fun and such enormous experiences that I'm glad I didn't miss them; I will admit that. Somethings though, I just wish I could leave behind. The pain of moving, or the death of a friend (we'll forever remember) I want to leave behind the things that make me cry. 'Cause brick-walled, cold corners eventually become unbearable. I just can't turn cold-shoulder and pretend it's not there. Who else will bring the sun-light to these corners but me?

Untitled (April 2005)

I am the empty seats next to you int he cafeteria
           -longing to be filled
I am the brick wall in the dark downtown alley
           -so cold here all alone
I am the last leaf on the autumn tree
           -alone and hanging on for my life
I am happy but I am tired

Untitled (April 2005)

I pray within this ice cold room
"God save me from my tears"
I save the canister of my sleepless nights
To prove to him they're here

I lose myself in the lyrics
That ring inside my head
They save me from the perils of life
From my rope that is only a thread

I'll wait inside my own little mountain
Snow capped as it may be
I'm warm inside myself
Because I know I'll soon be free

Not a Plastic Relationship (May 2005)

Don't you play with me
I'm not a Barbie doll
     Perfect body, everything
     A doll I used to look up to
     Such a horrible role model
     For a little girl
I'm stronger than that
     I chose what I want to do
     You can't make me do anything
           I gave up looking up to Barbie
           So long ago
           And plastic breaks so easy