il est mort

He always like to play with us, even if we didn't want to play with him.
He wiggled when he walked, when he used to have some fat on his bones.
He always found me when I was upset and just made it all better.
He would always always beg for cheese.
He lived outside, and when it rained he sat under that table.
He loved us all, and we loved him too.
He's gone.
Now all I can really think about is how when I got home today, he was just lying under the table, and no matter what I did, he stayed laying the same. He didn't move. Later on, he sat up and I petted his paws, and he pulled my hands closer, he wanted to have his hands held. When he laid his head back down, it thumped on the floor. My tears were messy and all over the place. And then he couldn't even hold my hand anymore. He just laid, and he cried. I didn't want him to end like this. I just wanted him to purr and meow and ask for something. Anything.
And when he left, I didn't even realize it. How empty it was when he was gone. The wind blew as we were tossing dirt over the beautiful box we made him. The wind blew him away. I want him back. I want him to not have any pain anymore, ever. He had such a good life, my baby kitty. Exactly 14 years and 6 months. He was perfect until the end.

So what's happening is that I don't often post on here anymore. I check this blog every day, to see if anyone else has posted, but (guilty look) i post more on tumblr. So if any of you want to check it out, my tumblr is http://sliverflowers.tumblr.com/
If i have any poems or rants, ill post on here. so that's why i've disappeared.
anna, i'm awaiting a letter :)

you know how sometimes it feels okay to cry? this is one of those times.

Isn't it nice? to feel wanted?

sorry for not posting. I've been caught up in other things, and trying not to just sit on the internet. Plus, I haven't been writing. I'm stuck

Shake the Dust

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qDtHdloK44

Just click the link, and watch. And understand

I'm thinking about shorter hair.
I'm thinking about longer hair.
I'm thinking I need change but don't know how.

I got a certain letter today....
and because you told me you enjoy my writing, i'll put a poem on here. Fair warning, its old.

How can I miss
what I didn't have.
Just
out of reach.
My fingertips brush
something-- you?
The word on my tongue
the wind in my hair
and tight-skinned cheeks,
can I still feel it?
some days,
somedays...
what im reaching for
is me
but am i
already gone?

this is my all-purpose post. Yes, I'm putting off homework, no, I'm not on facebook too. So I'm not aaaaall bad, right?
Well. I'll end with a reaaaaally good stanza from a poem, so you'll have to keep reading to get there.
I love looking at people's tumblrs, but I don't have one. I feel like if I did, nobody would enjoy looking at it. It'd just be there, collecting dust and no followers. Yeah, I know tumblr is way more hopping than blogspot, but... I'm not ready to give up this blog.
I have a few things that i really want, and then I'll tell you why I feel horribly guilty. Pictures of the things I want:



Why I feel guilty: some peole dont even have enough to EAT or a clean place to bathe or fresh water, and I want a cute blouse thats about sixty bucks and some makeup thats about 45? I feel really really guilty for WANTING. because wants and needs are different. I need food and water and clothes and shelter. I want cute clothes that coest bunches, a pretty house where i have my own room, yummy food, and loads and loads of other things. I still want the makeup (I'm obsessed, its perfect!) but i dont want to want things. I want to be content. And I'm sure I'll be happy whether or not I get it. But can you blame me for wanting? Even a starving person would like something that tastes good, right?

Poem time!
CHASING THE BIRD
the sun sets unevenly and the people
go to bed.

the night has a thousand eyes.
the clouds are low, overhead.

every night is a little bit
more difficult, a little

harder. My mind
to me a mangle is.

by robert creely, one of the Beat Poets

Beat Poets

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery
of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-
water flats floating across teh tops of cities contem-
plating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenements
roofs illuminated,
who passed through universtities with radiant cool eyes
hallucinating Arkansas and blake-light tragedy
among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & pub-
lishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning
their money in wastebaskets and listening to the
Terror through the wall,

From HOWL by Allen Ginsberg

I AM EMPTY

My glittering stings
these bleeding fingertips
to ice over reality
and calm quaking hearts
teary eyes and
the soul next door,
knees to chest of agony.

I'll promise you,
I'll laugh all day
with my fingers splayed
and scream all night
tight and hard as fists
caught up in my ecstacy
and rocking,
listening to fear next door.

For heavy footsteps
ring upon my galaxies
and heavy hands
rough like i don't remember
come down to me,
sinking into sawdust emptiness
fignernails dirtied by
poison tubs of poison thought
and all is silent
next door.

three

Lace up my ribs
with needlepoint
and nurse these scars to
bleed.
the sound of blood
is tight.

I write these letters
to cry my
invisible. I'm not
h e r e
press fingers to my lips
i'll bite.

leave your branches
where you've fallen,
take your golden promise
and your gentle bones.
did you promise?
did you share?


drive these needles
into my delicate flesh
and be gentle with those
mothball hands
and
d
r
i
p

Two

could you explain to me
how often you
draw your lines
and open your mouth
when daggers
emerge from your
nervous lips?

Will you share your
sex and shoot up
my golden veins?

How often do you
tickle my spine
with voodoo fingers
the bite almost like
the radio stations
too often played but
still forgotten?

Do I ask too many question
and talk too little
with needles
and too often for
you?

Does emptiness
make you feel safe
and lollipops
remind you of childhoods
spent like
hourglass sand,
stealthily slipping?

Why does the rain never
seem to stop?

one

Making sense of modern art,
a heavy
perscription. Buy me my
painkillers and spike my
soda with
the shells of butterflies so
i can fly.

Tiptoe quietly in my
suicide note and hope
there isn't quicksand.
Whisper quickly those secrets
glued to your lips
the palms of your hands
every strand
of misery. Do you still sing?
Because my lyrics are silent
stagnant
suffering under me.

Coat your tongue in
my fingertips
glass pains and panes
love notes you never finished
and started too late
for carrying.

Trace my spine with
infidelity
and poise poses on tippity top
mountaintops.
and tightrope youself
to sleep

...

Blogging is so difficult when youre always busy or waaaay too lazy. I really have bunches of stuff to say, but i can't think of any of it when i sit down at the computer.
I'm back from california, without having seen my dear anna, which totally sucked. it sucked soooo hard. Because every second i was in San Francisco, i was wishing she were there, too. Because she always told me how i would love it. And i did. I got this amazing dress and a super cool book of beat poetry (look it up!)
Now i'm home and only two nights so far have been in my own bed. Yay for sleepovers that dont end. I wish all summer were like that.
I'm super stressing school. only a week and a half?! what is this blasphemy?!

Gualala

Californ-i-a

dear blogging world:
I'm in california! We took two planes, had a super long layover in Denver, and a nice long drive along highway 1 (look it up, its amazing) to our beachish house in Gualala, California. I can see the beautiful ocean from here, and some golden hills and green pines. There was a deer grazing in our yard when we came. Its pretty amazing so far.

I have internet, which is also amazing. I mean, I can live without it, but its nice that we have it anyway.
sadly, no cell service at all.
(anna, comment this post when you know the date)

Lots of love,
Emma, cali girl for two weeks

Lists

Why does everyone and their sister have a tumblr now? Because tumbr has an easy layout and blah and there's more people following you and blah, but I'm pretty much stuck with blogspot. Though the idea of a tumblr is appealing, because more people will read what I have to say. But I dont know... switch time?

Yesterday was warped tour, and i think that I will be annoyingly talking about it all day. I:
saw 16 different bands
liked most of them
danced my ass off
kept my tube top on all day
didn't get sunburnt
met a cute guy
danced with him
sang along to my favorite songs
spent 5 bucks on a drink
had an amazing day
am already looking forward to next year
sweated
got sprayed with water
hugged
laughed
smiled.

That's my rant, in list form. I leave for california in less than a week. In about two (ish) weeks, I will see my best friend again. How many years has it been? Four? Three? Five? Too many, darlin. I can't wait!

I'm going to put up my final work from writing camp soon. And catch up with all my 30-day letters. Which, sadly, I haven't even had time to WRITE let alone type. Sighh.

FTSK

Forever the Sickest Kids
It was an amazing concert, because we waited outside for like three hours so we would get up super duper close for the concert. And we were. I was the second row.
But i have a few gross fun facts. Because it was about a million degrees in that room, and there were a million people, too, EVERYONE was sweaty. And let me tell you, sweaty hair sticks. Also, it is possible to prune your fingers with sweat. And It is possible to feel like you took a shower in sweat.

It was, of course, worth it. But I don't think I've ever lost so much bodily fluid in all my life.

Of course when I got home, I took the best shower of my life. Not even warped tour, outside, all day, in the sun, compares to the heat in that room.


But on another note, things that bother me. People who are assholes to you sometimes when clearly its not what you needed. And friends being assholes because they can and they're hot and cold and can't fucking decide to like you or not.

good night everyone, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNA. You're such an old fart now. <3

No Day but Today

So lately I've just been posting my letters. But I post two or three at the same time, and for the record, I write them the day of, and post them later, when I have time.

Also, today, My grandmother, whom I call Oma, left today. I hate airports. They are depressing places full of goodbyes. At least all the recent time's I've been there. I always seem to miss the 'hello' part of visits. When Souki came, I was at my steel sculpture class. When my Oma came, I was working in southern Indiana. So the goodbye is all I get. I am horrible at it, too. I always choke up and cry.

Endings are so sad. Why was it too soon?

DaY Ten

Dear person I don't talk to as much as I'd like,

You know, you are many different people. I'm indesicive, I can't choose. I talk to you lots bot not really. Youre close but far away. YOu're not just one person. So I'm not naming names here, but I'd like to talk to all of you more.

YOu, we know everything about each other, and that's amazing. You're amazing. But I do miss you when we're between letters.

YOu, we used to be soooo tight, and we do text sometimes and stuff, but TALK is something we do not do a lot. We chat, we chill. Let's talk

You, who should be in a different category

You, who act like its a fucking chore to hang with me, unless there's something in it for you. You are also a different category, and I can't help you being both.

You (tu), who I love and I miss and its hard to talk to you because often I don't know what to say, except I do love you and I want to be there with you instead of over here. I want to give you kisses on the cheek and hugs because I'm essentially american. But you're far away and six hours time makes a difference.

Love always,
Emma

Day Nine

dear person I'd like to meet,

God if i know who you are. You could be anyone in a month or a year. A person I want to meet today is different than next week, but that's the point, isnt it? Thirty days of who I am right now, who I am each day. a moving portrait of me.

Today I want to meet William Beckett. He's hot, he writes songs, and he sings. Those are my shallow reasons. I don't really have deep reasons. Anyone I'd want to really talk to, I dont know what I'd say. Thats what this letter is for, though. But honestly, I'd like to meet myself as a child. I'd like to know the childlike me, to convince myself I wasn't a little brat.

So, little me, I don't know you, but I'd like to. So come back.

Love always,
Emma

Day Seven

Dear Ex-Boyfriend(s)

Don't worry, I'm not going to say "fuck you" or anything, because by now there's no hard feelings. Sorry if things ended badly, I don't really remember all the details. Do you? I doubt it. Oh well, you know? There's a reason we're over, and at least we know that.

Thanks for the good times, though, 'cause I'm sure we had those. Thanks for liking me and listening to me (or, you know, not) but thanks anyway. This is an all-exes inclusive letter. Maybe it's too general 'cause I'm sure some of you are bastards or something. Like, not all my relationship endings have been peachy.

You, for those awful in-the-car talks, I found it too easy to run away. I'm sorry I wasn't what you expected. I can't hate you, though. Thank you, I'm sorry.
You, for dating my friend. What the fuck? And for never ever having a ride. Sorry for not liking you enough.
You, for having a shitty tattoo. You told me I was a good kisser. Thank you! But you're not that great. I just let you think so. You can go die.
(see, one of you IS a bastard)

Love,
Emma

Day Six

Dear Stranger,

Hi, I'm Emma Benschop. How do I explain who I am? Well, I just finished writing camp at Butler and hope to go places when I'm older. I'm 15, but feel much older and look older, too. I don't really know what time is, or what it means, and why. But all I know is that eventually, I'll run out.

I'm dutch but I speak very little.
I'm not french, but I adore it.

Next year I'm going to France. That's important to me.

I haven't met you, and I dont know you yet, but if I were to meet you, you can be sure I'd be nice. I like strangers, and they like me, I think. It's really knowing someone that's tricky.

Love always,
Emma

Day five

Dear Dreams

It's like youre on a long road, and all I have to do is get there. But right now I'm walking and it feels like I'll give up before I get to you.

But, Dreams, don't worry. You're spectacular, I've made sure of that. And you'll never get lonely, because I have so many dreams I don't know where to begin.

I love you, dreams, because you keep me going. You're my friends and my enemies and I want to cry over you but instead I'll laugh because I'm young and so are you and meeting you would be... more than amazing. That's one meeting that will have to happen, and I'm sure you'd like to meet me too. Let's hold hands and fly away.

I don't know what to tell you because I know who you are and you know who I am, but I'm sure you hate me for almost giving up sometimes, just as I hate you when I almost do, but if I didn't dream, I'd truly be alone and I'd just sit here, afraid, forever. So thank you.

Love always,
Emma

Day Four, sibling

Dear Sibling:

I know we don't always get along, or haven't always gotten along, but I do really love you. It's weird to say, because we're sisters and we don't hug goodbye or anything and we act like we just tolerate each other, but I know you love me too. Even when you think I'm a bitch, and I think you're a bitch too sometimes but it always passes, and we are always on the same page. You helped me deal with the parents when I wasn't really able to, and even if we don't share secrets, I know alot about you and you know a lot about me.

Sharing friends isn't easy, and it still isn't. I'll feel left out, or you'll feel left out, but its okay, because that's kind of how it has to work with us. Sometimes you get the cute shirt, sometimes I do. I won't say it, but I think I did miss you when I was gone.

Maybe in the future we won't be tight anymore, but we are now, and thats awesome especially when I'm home and its eight on a summer night when I should be out and about, but I got home late because of camp, but you're home too and you want to hango out with me, and when we make plans we make them together because it kind of does stink when someone has plans and the other one doesnt.

We talk at the same time and know how the other works, and maybe its because we spend lots of time together, or maybe its because you wander into my room and sit down to talk, or I walk into yours and sit on your bed and we just sit and listen to music and have dance parties and watch movies and you're just amazing.

I don't know if you'll read this but thanks for being my sister and putting up with bitchfits and whatnot, because its important.

Love always,
Emma

Day three, parents

Dear Parents:

Really, I love you guys. I dont really have any complaints, because whenever you're mean or what I might think is unfair at the moment is what I deserve, every time. You two are so proud of me, and I'm just glad I can make you proud even though I don't want to be a scientist and I'm not even sure I can be anything, but you support me anyway.

I want to apologize for being an awful child, I'm sure I wasn't easy to deal with. Maybe I'm still not, but you put up with me anyway and I'm glad for that. where would I be without you?

I don't know if you know, but I appreciate you. You are the best parents I could ask for, and I know everyone says that if they have great parents, but you listen to me and ask my opinion and we can talk about drugs at the dinnertable and play the penis game and you understand that I'm a teenager, and even if you (dad) bug me about guys and stuff, I know its becasue you care, and not because you think I shouldnt date or something ridiculous like that. Maybe I don't tell you everything, but hey, I'm a teenager and I'm not supposed to. But I will tell you I love you a million, and I'm proud that you're my parents.

Love always,
Emma

Day two-- crush

Dear Crush,

Do you even exsist? Because I'm not sure who you are. You could be the cute guy from the theme park, the guy i wish was still here, of maybe even the one that is still here, but I'm too afraid of ruining things with.

Don't take it personally if I won't date you? Because friends are more important to me than any relationship that isnt going to go anywhere and then you break up and never talk again, and if you do its the standard convo where you can't really say anything for fear that you'll say the wrong thing and be back at the stage of 'oh yeah, thats why we broke up'. So I'm really not too good with crushes, or anyone for that matter.

Also, I hate you all, as much as I adore you. I really despise that you can actually make me have a crush? Because I'm not really a person that thinks I'll ever fall in love, and I don't want to set myself (and you) up for disaster. Guys are really stupid, and I can't stand when I like you, and you like me, because then any chance of a deep conversation about anything worthwhile goes out the window because then you'll read into it too much and I'll get frustrated. So that's my reasoning.

sorry to you all potential crushes.

Love always,
Emma

Day One

Dear best friend,

I tell you everything. We don't even live in the same state. YOu know my random thoughts and little crevices of my mind that are usually mine alone. But that's a best friend, right? You understand me, even when I don't really make sense.

I worry about it sometimes, if we still lived close, would we be close? Would we even be friends? Would I still tell you everything, or would I be too afraid? When we do see each other again, what will we say? How will we feel? Will it be awkward?

I hope we'd still be friends because even at a distance, I need you in my life and want you there. I want someone to tell things to, and know that you actually care instead of laugh me off if I tell you that the sky is amazing at any time of day, or talk to you about college even if its far off. I hope that we won't be awkward, because I don't think I could stand it.

Best friend, you're always there. Dream big, you amazing girl, you! I love you darling, and I kind of hope I'm your best friend, too.

Love always,
Me

A Letter A Day

Write a letter to someone every day for thirty days. Here's the lineup:
Day one: Best friend
2: crush
3: parents
4: sibling (or closest relative)
5: your dreams
6: Stranger
7: ex boyfriend/girlfriend
8: favorite internet friend
9: someone you wish you could meet (alive)
10: Someone you dont talk to as much as you'd like
11: a dead person you want to talk to
12: person who caused you pain/hurt you
13: someone you want to forgive you
14: someone you've drifted away from
15: person you miss the most
16: someone not in your state/ country
17: childhood someone
18: person you wish you could be
19: someone that pesters your mind
20: person that broke your heart the worst
21: Someone you judged by first impression
22: person you want to give a second chance
23: last person you kissed
24: person your favorite memory is with
25: person you know with the worst of times
26: last person you pinky swore with
27: friendliest person you knew for a day
28: person that changed your life
29: persong you want to tell everything to but are too afraid
30: your reflection

ho hum

Summer! isn't that fantastic? I mean, lazy days of nothing and summer nights of bliss and fun. I just need a summer romance to spice things up....
oh well.
So last night, i slept in a tent and it stormed! but we stayed strong and just went back to bed once the storm was over. Arent we badass? Yeah, right. We were just too lazy to run inside.
One more announcement, and then an on-the-spot poem.
Announcement! Check out this link : http://www.flickr.com/photos/breerockbrand/4234278731/ and let me know if you're interested. Leave a comment or something. But I promise, if you like writing, this will be very, very cool.

Poem from the top of my head:
smooth feeling,
a steady beating...
my heart?
does it make it right,
to feel? To love,
selflessly?
without letting anything get
in the way?
because humanity
in its essence,
stops and defends,
breaks and mends.
doesn't allow and doesn't
let go.
So forget my heart,
a useless beating thing,
circling blood and
feeding life,
disregarding feelings and
goings-on.
it just continues to beat.

I dont hate you
i'm not mad at you
"tu me fache" doesnt mean "i'm mad at you"
it means "you make me mad"
they're different.
tu m'inquiete.
Je veux le meilleur pour toi,
est-ce que tu vois ca?
I forgive you, but not for putting him first,
always. I forgive you because
I think you'll have my back.
Can't you see that this is my way of having yours?
Sorry if I'm unclear
but my water is foggy.

Its finally summer. Ain't it grand? But also, it's the first day of summer and im already like... huh. What am I going to do all summer? If i were leaving,
going somewhere spectacular and new, I'd have no problems finding things to do. But im stuck here, in more ways than one. I don't know. Maybe it's a phase. I told someone I wanted to explore the world once, and they told me "I did too, when I was twelve. but I've grown up" if that's growing up, I never want to. I want to keep my dreams and fly away with them. I want everything I've dreamed about, and I want to keep the things I've wanted. I'm not young or stupid. Or maybe I am, but it doesnt feel like it, and that's good enough for me. maybe I'll get more realistic, but I'd rather live a fantasy than try to be practical. I want to travel, and I think I'll just... be a flight attendant. Yeah! that's perfect.
I'm rambling...
C'est ete! Summer! Je vais bien m'amuser

Forever Away

Forever awa
those houses of sadness
where people go
to cry, to keep their tears
in little glass jars
and keep their sobs in
the cubboards and floorboards
and little seams
of all those houses
with closed doors and
bottled tears.

Forever away
there are people all in
themselves,
wrapped up and coiled.
Hiding. They don't know
how to come out.
They don't remember how.
In those houses with
screams etched into
surfaces,
spilling with unsaid words.

Forever away
they want to fly
but can't find their wings.
They want to climb
but can't escape.
The bottles of tears, suffocating.
Drowing in them,
a tireless struggle.
they want to laugh,
to smile again,
in those houses with
their boarded doors and no wings.

Forever away
isn't that far.

Tu me fache

shout out to girls that can't be without guys. I applaud your dependent nature.

Sorry for the sarcasm. Cecile, j'ai une message pour toi, si tu le lis. Si tu ne sais pas pourquoi tu me fache, t'es plus bete que j'ai pense. vraiment. Desole, mais tu me fache parce-que t'es bete, et tu ne le sais pas! avec les garcons, drolement. mais aussi il s'agit de nous. Une semaine pour des amis? vraiment? bien s'amuse avec notre petit ami. Et aussi, tu me fache, et je suis tellement decu, main tu ne m'a dit pas RIEN. rien, cecile. et je suis ton meilleur ami? Je ne le pense pas. Pas si tu ne me parle pas.

sorry for the french. but anyway.
Last two days of school. I'm sort of sad, actually. I just saw the summer stretch out before me, long and hot. and I don't know what I'll do with myself. I need a job, for the umpteenth time. sorry for being repetetive, blogger world.

Can't wait, though. already im getting very very lazy. Math studying? pffft, yeah right. but really, algebra two is kinda hard. so i miiiight wanna go study.

journal

So, I haven't really kept a journal in a while. I've been busy. Schoolwork, i suppose? that's not really it. I've been too busy to write, but the desire to do so has hit me, and hit me hard. Its this whole two-books-one-day thing. I love it.
So, it hit me how badly, how achingly, i want an adventure. anything away from the norm. and I don't mean me going all 'hipster indie' which people mistakenly think is cool and unique. Unique is not looking and acting the same as everyone around you! Really, people. No. I want to get away from here. Starting over new doesn't sound half bad right now. In fact, it sounds perfectly dandy. But i'm tethered here. and what if i wasn't at hse for the french trip? I'd die, i think. because that's what my life revolves around. the next something exciting. But does my life take a pit stop for a year while i wait around to get it? Im going to california this summer, but I really just want to go somewhere... by myself. So I can be independent and not have to be on a family trip where I have to abide by the whims of others. But you know what? I'm too fucking young. How much does that suck? being 15. I'd really rather skip the next two year, fuck not growing up too fast.I don't really fit here, anywhere. Trivial things bore me, and little problems just blow over my head. I want something more. I love reading and just losing myself into it because its better there. In those books.

I want to travel europe. I speak dutch, english, french. I'll do fine in europe. I just need a shitton of money and permission, which is very hard to come by. this girl, in the book im reading, is 17 and backpacking europe! what's up with that? I'd have to be 18 and moved out out out to even consider doing that. I just wish it could happen. but my parents, paranoid, won't let me do anything because im a girl and in their eyes, girls are fragile and succeptible to anything and everything prowling the streets. I can defend myself, thank you!

It's late. Good night, internet world. i wish you well

Let this be our little secret

No one needs to know we're feeling higher and higher and higher
-Passion pit, Little Secrets-

So, im in the last two weeks of school. Not that you care. but if you did, i'd tell you that i'm really only in it for finals and then its job search 24-7. No joke. I need money for france!

foreign oceans,
and selfless love.
shhh, don't think, or
you'll ruin it.
these little shivers
that run your spine
to the ground,
toiling soil
and ruptured earth, dirt
clinging to fingernails
and souls. like blood,
bleeding words and
ink, and breath
that feeds us.
the twisted branches
and harmless twigs
that snag us, nonetheless.
Let's not forget,
let's not forget....

The Permanent Rain

So why the sudden change
and what’s this all about?
I know they speak your name,
but where’s the sound right now?
I can’t stop praying you’ll hear me play.
I know that I’ll be with you there someday.

So where the hell’s my hope,
and why can’t I just try?
You know I’ve lost a lot,
but I won’t let this die.
I know I’ve got a friend up in the atmosphere,
and another reason not to fear the sky;
no, not tonight.

Can I pull out all the stops,
and get out of this town?
I want to make you proud,
but I really don’t know how.
I know it’s not helping to hear me say,
“I wish it was me in the car that day.”
Though something made me stop and think of what you said.
You know it meant a lot,
but I was just a kid,
one with all these dreams of growing up and playing music on the road.
I’ve been screaming all these years and thinking of you both.

So where’s my hope,
and why can’t I just try?
You know I’ve lost a lot,
but I won’t let this die.
I know I’ve got a friend up in the atmosphere,
and another reason not to fear the sky;
no, not tonight.

I wrote this note,
because I never even told you.
You know I’ve got some things to sing about,
like we were young and holding true
to all these songs that always made us pull through,
and now I’ve got some words that I’ll write down.
I’m sending this shit out.

So where’s my hope,
and why can’t I just try?
You know I’ve lost a lot,
but I won’t let this die.
I know I’ve got a friend up in the atmosphere,
and another reason not to fear the sky;
no, not tonight.

So where’s my hope,
and why can’t I just try?
You know I’ve lost a lot,
but I won’t let this die.
I know I’ve got a friend up in the atmosphere,
and another reason not to fear the sky;
no, not tonight.

So where the hell’s my hope,
and why can’t I just try?
You know I’ve lost a lot,
but I won’t let this die.
I know I’ve got a friend up in the atmosphere,
and another reason not to fear the sky;
no, not tonight. no, not tonight

-The Dangerous Summer-

screams that don't sound
and the foggy morning
with silence stretched
so tight, you can see it,
thinning in places,
threatening to break.
With tight lips and
cracked smiles, we go on

For days of nothing,
of nothing that spoke,
of everything broken,
and the whispered wishes
and wants and wonders
in the night that cried out
with melancholy skies
of starless blankets
in clouds that swallow dreams
and hint of nightmares

Franglais?

ils me manquent, mes amis Francais. Je vous aime, beaucoupe. Et j'etudie pour l'annee prochaine. Je vous souvien. :)

I miss them, my french friends. I love them, alot. and I'm studying for next year. I'll remember you. :)

Frustration

lately everything electronic that I own has been messing up. My computer (other one, not this one I'm typing on) has a stupid virus and nobody knows exactly how to fix it. I mean, i run the computer for fifteen minutes, tops, and it freezes. Its a pretty damn new computer, too. So i'm pissed, and can't afford another because I need to go to France next year and thats big bucks so.... and also my Ipod. It has random bouts of "i'm going to turn off and on and off and on and off and on" and also "I'm not in the mood to let you play music." Its ridiculous. Are the two connected, maybe? I don't know, but I'm really not in the mood to lose all my music. Because really, I like all of it, even if I don't always listen on shuffle because some songs are annoying at the wrong moments and.. yes. Sorry, tangents seem to carry me away. I just want to sleep for days. But my homework is piling up and I don't even know how I let it get that way! It's so ridiculous that it makes me want to cry.

some days, you just need a day. So today, I stayed home from school and did absolutely nothing all day, and talked to french people on facebook and generally was lazy. But it was a good kind of lazy. Like, I just needed a day to get it all together. Especially because i did nothing last week.

Anna, your letter is done, it's just getting ready to be sent

I want to cry.
In fact I did, a lot. All of us did. What am I going to do without them?
what am I going to do?

Bamboozle Kazoozles.

my birthday (the picture is me and vera, a loooong time ago)
one year since bamboozle. Shall I recount all that has happened?
I've made friends (Chris, Matt, and more!)
I've lost friends
I've written letters.
I have not fallen in love, but dated
I've fallen,
I've been picked up.
Concerts, concerts, concerts
summer gym
Writing camp
Summer,
Paris, The Netherlands
Fourth of July
Flowers and kisses
Missing people
French people (I miss them, they're not even truly gone yet)
Crushes and giggles
Prom and homecoming
skipping and hugging and cheek-kissing.
Sleeping and eating and homework.
A year. How much can really happen?
One last thing... bamboozle kazoozles!

its been such a long time. Let me explain why.

I have an exchange student, Soukayna, staying with my family. She is staying in my room, and I'm staying in vera's on an air mattress on the floor. Sadly, Souki, as we call her, is only here for two weeks! So we have to squeeze every drop of awesomeness out of it that we can. Yeah? Next year I think Vera and I will go to France and stay with Souki and some of the other wonderful french kids like Maxime, Marie, Awatif, Ornella, Ludivine, Julien, and more! I love all of the french students, especially Soukayna, because of course she's staying with me. Pictures will come later.

We have had such busy days. We have all next week, but already it feels too short. Like if I close my eyes for a moment I will miss something important and feel like I can't get it back. Homework has gone to the wayside, and I am in fact supposed to be doing it right now. But I can't think strait after such a wonderful weekend! Friday night was a french foreign exchange party at my friend's house. Saturday, the day, we went laser tagging and some shopping, then the rest of the time to get ready for..... (drumroll please) Prom! they have nothing like it in France, and les eleves francais came at the right time. The hoster students can go too, if they want, because they are hosting. So, I went. I wore a 'princess dress' not that people care too terribly much. Everyone looked so beautiful! and let me tell you: prom is about a million times better than homecoming. maybe it was the french kids that made it so great because they are alll amazing. but it was so so so great. My dress broke and my feet got stepped on and seniors gamve me strange looks. But I didnt care because I had mes amis francaise. OUI!

et today, we went to the zoo and shopping at the mall. I am thinking in a french accent all day and it takes me a bit to not talk like that too. Maxime today told me I had a beautiful accent and I thought it was funny he said that because I think he speaks so beautiful, too. Better than me, at least at french. Oh, for sure at french. je ne parle francais tres bon. Et je ne sais pas comment faire des accents! C'est triste, je pense. Bonne nuit!

Anna, I can't wait! I have so much to say!

Cardigan Weather

I know that some things don't work out, but I didn't think that it wouldn't work out because of THIS. I mean, honestly. People need to open their eyes and see.

So, I kind of thought that this blog wasn't going to go into the gory details of my life. I know that I used to post poems alot. But honestly, I haven't been writing lately. and it makes me sad, because all I seem to be doing is reading. And reading. And eating. Sigh. How little my life has become. I hate boredom eating.

You how sometimes you're just not in the mood? for anything, even those people that normally you love talking to? Yeah, its been that kind of week for me. I don't understand it, but all I want to do is read and hole myself up until school comes back. and even then, I can't even answer my emails? Im such an awful person.

Anna, anna! write baaaack. I know you are, but still. Things are a-changing

I know that some things don't work out, but I didn't think that it wouldn't work out because of THIS. I mean, honestly. People need to open their eyes and see.

lazy days spent reading in the hammock. Two books, three days. I'm doing pretty well, for a spring break.

Dear anna,
I hope my letter finds you soon!

Dear kitty,
You are beautiful. Don't forget it.

so I haven't posted in a while. Is it nice that my life is getting busy? and lazy?
How long did it take all of you to put your swags on this morning? Took me three seconds. beat that!

Brain Juice

I'd give anything for a new start. Fresh, new faces. Fresh, new town. Fresh, new me. I don't know. I love it here, but being here so long has got me used to staying. And I'm not sure if I want staying to be my thing. I told someone that I get bored of people. I do! It's not because I'm mean, its just that.... I am always looking for something that needs changing, even if it was fine. I love changing my room, hate it when anything around the house changes. I love being free, I hate it when people cut ties with me. I'm a contradiction. What're you gonna do?

Great Big Planes. Go. They're a band. Chad! Save us with your mustache!

Homework made my brain explode today. Hope the wall looks nice coated in brain juice.

Let's

Let's make love with our bodies
Let's scream until nobody can hear us
Let's sing until we get it right
Let's catch our marshmallows on fire
Let's point to each star
Let's live

I want to do everything. and i will

Yet another concert last night. I love them so much, i can't stand it.
We danced and made fools of ourselves and tried to creep on pictures and talked and talked and laughed and had a generally good time. No pictures, though, because who needs cameras for everything? I mean, I can just... think. If it were really that important, I'd remember it, wouldnt I?

Let's read every book
Let's kiss until we're breathless
Let's laugh until tomorrow
Let's whisper secrets
and trail fingers down our spines.
Let's live.

memory

those moments,
you know the ones.
they catch in the light,
sparkling, swirling
like dust,
they're trapped there,
until you catch them up,
or until you want
to. Then they're
gone. Smoke in the
air, pungent and
tangible,
stirred by my breath
and rustling.
My tree, leaves
blowing.
Full summertime, my
memories are there,
ready to be plucked.
The fall is coming,
turning them shades of sunsets.
Winter, with my
memories fallen; gone.
Caught in the air
and shivering.
they're flighty,
those memories.

i know that doesnt make a lot of sense. OR any at all. But i just got to writing and thinking, and i just put whatever came to mind on my paper. Or well, the digital paper. you know what I mean. I really needed to make some sense of the words that decorate my arm. I love my words.

The line between my pen and mind is at war...

I'm obsessed with meg & dia. Really. Cross my fingers, hope to die, i hope there's a concert coming up soon. I love concerts.

I'm really really really really dreading homework. I have lots.

story

Can I tell you a story?
It might creep into your bones,
settle in, and never leave.
It might take your breath,
steal it and run off into the night.
Are you ready?

There was this girl,
you see, and she'd just moved.
A new start, she said, believed.
And for a while, it was.
She fell with the in crowd
with all their parties
and boys and fun.
She wore the right things
and said the right things
and it was perfect.

But then, she did something
wrong. She slipped up,
made a mistake, said
the wrong things.
She fell away. Those people
she once called friends,
they made her life hell.

One day, she couldn't take it
anymore. She went home
and found a knife.
She tore herself open,
and poured herself out.
All of her bled out of her,
all of her left.
She was just a shell of
a girl, empty and
wanting.
And that's the end.

Now, didn't that scare you?
Isn't that the scariest thing
you've ever heard?
Is your breath catching?
No? Are you reaching inside,
to see if you're empty,
too?
Good. That's what it's like.

Calligraphy

So, I've taken to writing all my poems with my calligraphy pen set.
it makes me feel all old-fashioned and cool. Like I'm not living in this modern world where I can just type out how I'm feeling and wear short skirts and show my ankles and all that good stuff. Where I can be who I want to be. Not that I don't love modern technology and times, I mean, I can be whatever I want. I can do what I want, because women are no longer subservient to men. Its just that... I would have loved to at least have experienced that. The corsets and finishing school and gas lamps and everything. Too bad it's all romanticized and I'll never know how it really was. Just like people a hundred years from now can't imagine how I live today. Or maybe they can imagine, just like me on my flights of fancy, but it's all going to change.

So. I've decided: I'm going to be a gypsy when I grow up. I will travel and do my art and writing and whatever else. I'll see things and meet people and help people. It doesn't seem so bad, and I'll never get bored! Here, my life is boring. I'm so used to it. I can't stand it! I just want something interesting to happen; something new every day. School is so structured, and so is everything I do. I just want something different. New faces, new places. That sort of thing.

Everyone's got cracks,
fissures under the surface.
I'm sure you've heard it all
before.
The lucky ones, they're
needle-thin, delicate.
Ornate, even.
Mine. Oh, oh mine.
Mine are not of
that kind, If you'd
indulge, and believe me
for a moment.
They're the kind that
kill, the kind
that stretch deeper,
invading to the core.
The deadliest ones,
they're not seen.
My invisible cracks,
fault lines broken
over again.
Reparations, rennovations
postponed for yet
another earthquake, a
mighty aftershock.
The ones that might
eventually crumble,
leaving me. Oh, those
ornamental ones,
I envy them.

Night.

Everyone's scared.
Nobody here is perfectly fine, a delicate frame, a fragile design.
Nothing's bigger than love.
-My Favorite Highway-

Oh, goodness. Today has been SUCH an interesting day. grasp onto that sarcasm, people. I know how much everyone wants to hear about my day, but that's too bad for today. I just want to know... why? why everything. Why do people love who they shouldnt? why is the sky grey, but still beautiful? Why are there two million shades, and I can't even discover them all? Why are people afraid? Why can't I think of anything for my ceramics project? why can't I seem to trust myself? Why is everything always better in my imagination?

any answers, people? No? I didn't really think so. But you never know.

I have 13 followers. Goodness knows how many actually READ my rants. But hey, if you're reading, thank you. Leave a comment? it totally makes my day.

I will post more poems eventually, I promise! I just haven't any good ones lately.

... And she asked me what the night smelled like. Like crisp blue october colorado days and the taste of stars. Rain, soft and soothing. it smells like the earth is breathing a sigh of relief, the day is over. Like crickets chirping and stargazing high in the mountains. that's what night smells like.

total lack of anything resembling initiative for anything.
I smell like smoke, hmm.
Homework has snuck up on me.
Whip it.
Every Avenue.
Final Destination, all wrapped up.

Rant

While sitting in the guidance office today, I was missing art class. Now, art class is the BEST part of my day, because I have no homework, and can do with my time what I please. Which is.... play with clay. I'm in ceramics. So, I was missing art class. I sat in guidance the ENTIRE period and then got in for a five minute meeting with my counselor. Five minutes. I sat for half an hour for five minutes of meeting. Really? Goodness, it was ridiculous. And I missed art class (insert angry face here).

Ever ignored someone? someone you kind of sort of care about? Yeah, it's hard, isn't it? You want to pick up your phone and send a nice text, right? Oops, I forgot, they don't want to talk to me! Or, oops, I forgot, they're an awful person. It's hard, but so so very easy at the same time. Ignorance, is it bliss?

Nosebleed

(sense a theme, last time it was headache, now its a different ailment!)
Yes. I could talk about my various ailments alllll day. but today, it was sunny, and the sky was clear, and I went running with nick! We ran to mama bears and then got my other friend, Kevin, and walked to a park. Great fun, we joined a game of basketball and it was hilarious. Then, I accidentally got hit in the face with a basketball. Oh, goodness. My nose started dripping. Hardcore. It was a gusher, for lack of a better word. But blood? It's pretty. Don't judge, because its not like I LOVE bleeding. In fact, I could do without it. But it was all over my hand and nose and leg, and when I held my hand up to the sky, the contrast was startlingly wonderful. I laughed the entire time, even when my friends kept asking if I was okay. It was actually quite comical. Then, I had to clean myself up at a nearby icecream store. There were so many people, and there I was, covered in blood. Yay. Happy days with the Mama Bears veterans :)

Headache

So here's the thing.
Exes can't really be friends. I mean, sure, you can try. But that little pinch of awkwardness? Not too charming, sorry. I'd love to be friends, really, but there WAS a reason that the couple broke up, no? Therefore, it would do to think that that reason was good enough to break enough, and good enough to keep you not friends. Right?

Also, guys and girls CAN be friends. Those sexual jokes and hugging? yeah, not really tension. Sorry, buddy, but friends works just fine for me.

Who is this buddy I keep talking about? Hm. I don't know. Society. He's a bitch, aint he?

To Do

I have oodles to do. But I'm taking time to blog it out, because I want to. I hate when I have no time to at least type a few lines. today, I have to really work hard. But that irresistible pull that the book on my bedside table has... It's really really hard to not just toss off all my responsibilities and find out what's going to happen next... Oh well.

What I don't understand is how someone can just NOT do their homework. I mean, its assigned for a reason. good grades are important to me, at least. Guess not to everyone, huh?

It's been an "oh well" kind of week.

I hate when you are talking to someone and it goes like this:
Me: Hi! We haven't talked.
You: I've been busy
Me: Right. But oh my goodness, guess what? Bamboozle Roadshow is coming back!
You: Okay.
Me: Don't you want to go?
You:....

Really? Don't even respond if you didn't want to talk. If I want to talk to you and you don't want to talk to me, fine. But don't make it so blatantly obvious. Please, and thank you.

Bummer

Something stupid.
When people don't have fun. They come, make plans, hang out with friends. But being a total downer? not cool. Not at all. So please, if you're having a pissy day, go grab a cup of tea, a book, whatever floats your boat, and don't make plans! Because being a bummer on group plans? Not going to make your day better. Sorry.

These phantom whispers
kill me. Their hollowed
eyes and wretched lips.
Narcotic death.
This sweet silence,
a drunken kiss.
Our lips are tainted
with bittersweet words.
Melancholy death makes
its bed with me.

My flesh consumed,
and so it called, a
reminder of former
carelessness, do not
fight this reprieve.
Our dreams ripe with
hunger. The menacing
shadows dulled. so
does vivid death
lie open to me.

humanity

Oh the fatal tries of human error
A bloodbath of neverending proportion
Calculus classes are still plugging in the numbers
By the million? Of course.
Humanity, its ruined for today.
It’s ruined for us all.
The young and hopeful, the ones who have not
Yet seen all of our deathly throes
Of action. Those who seem to carry
That thread of hope, of longing.
But candles are obsolete, no longer
Needed at all. So why are we?




Sorry, bad poem. I am just so fed up with people in general. not people i know, but humans. we are awful. I'll rewrite later.

I'm in a creative slump brought on by excessive I-hate-indiana-bipolar-weather illness and a good case of AP world history (see symptoms below). Forgive me for lack of poem posting, etc. I promise, this summer I'll have plenty. I'm going to writing camp again, and that always makes my creative side really strong. I'll try to get a picture up of my ceramics project, a clay pot of my hand.

the things that make my day

1. thirty second snowball fights
2. our snowman, his name is Victory!
3. hottubbing in winter
4. snow angels in our bikinis and trunks
5. feet!
6. The Time Warp in the street, yes in swimsuits
7. Never wanting to go home
8. a lovely warm shower
9. my computer

Gran Torrino

So, two posts in one day. What a day.

Gran Torrino. For those of you who have not seen this clint eastwood movie, it's not a western. It adresses issues like racism and gang violence. In other words, you have to see it. In the words of my brother, the acting might sometimes be sub-par, but worth seeing. I completely agree.

the blood.
It took hold,
weakened those
vital muscles,
like legs and strength.
Rendered little
things, like tearducts,
impossible.
Too much else was
leaking,
some halfway dried.
It makes you think
it makes you weak
and scared.
Crumble, like
ancient rome after
a power vacuum.
The blood.
Like a river,
it never seems
to stop flowing.


Thank you and good night

I've been reading. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a bookworm, and even more so when the book is as amazing as this one was. My Sister's Keeper.

I finished it with tears running down my face. I kept them in my eyes for a good moment, too. For a few moments I couldn't quite see the words on the page. But gravity got the best of me, and my tears melted into my bed and my hands and fingers. I balanced one tear between two fingers. Have you ever tasted tears? I recycle them, like i have a bank that will someday run dry if I cry too much.

My Sister's Keeper was so amazing, I cant even describe it. I won't try to. All I'm going to say is that there are some moments of brilliance that you simply can't ignore. This book kept me up at night thinking about it. Past when I could keep my eyes open to focus on the words. But words arent the only thing telling this books story, which is the amazing part. Its the tears that I know people are shedding, the thoughts, and the dog-eared pages. its that feeling you get when you know the words to your favorite song. I don't know how to explain it. It just is.

I wear my books like honor badges. I read in the hallway, my nose constantly buried in a book. I am a true bookworm. Maybe the words protect me from the world. with a book in front of my face, I can be whoever I want. Or i don't have to be anybody at all. I'm hidden. One thing about My Sister's Keeper: the other kids felt invisible. I would hate it. But then again, being invisible has advantages.

I know this is really long. I can't help it. Sorry, and if you're still awake, next time I'll post a poem

all those great little poem ideas slip through my fingers.... I think of something brilliant. but i can't write it down. I'm going to start wearing a pen around my neck.

teardrops

let teardrops
fall to
unworthy laps.
let them slide
past unassuming
lips.
Over valleys of
noses and
smooth, unbothered
cheeks.
Let teardrops
drain to salty
oceans that
wished for none
of this, though
they carry memories.
let them fall
as nobody stops
to catch them

Hey, Miss Sobriety

My room smells like smoke. I'm choking on it. I want to go to bed. but I want to DO something. I have a sort of urgency to do something. I'm afraid its going to spew out the wrong way. Maybe I'll do something stupid. But at this point, anything is really the wrong thing. I'm just bored with everything and I don't think I fit into any of the little places that I used to fill so well. I don't really fit anywhere. I fit into my bed, into my room, into my pen. But I don't fit into the little spaces people have shoved me into, and pushed aside. I'm not going to be boxed away. I want to be where I want, and not have to fit into where someone puts me. I am not smiley all the time. I don't really want to fit into any of those places either. I want to be free. I don't really know what i want, but I don't want this.

Don't get me wrong. My life is not bad. I love my friends, but lately some are getting on my last nerve. I just need to talk to someone who won't judge, or won't try to tell me everything is going to be okay when nothing is really wrong. I don't want to be told that its all perfect and peachy when that's really the problem. "fine" is a filler. I'm in a mood, of course, what with my computer moving at the speed of a dying snail finishing a race. But I'll be "fine" again. But fine is bullshit, and I'm going to change something. Maybe. I just hope its not the wrong thing.

Anna, your letter is sitting, licked and adressed, ready to be sent out whenever I get a stamp, kiss it, and send it off.

It makes me feel
lost, she replied,
and considered it.
Like I'm nowhere,
and neither is she,
but we're not
nowhere together.
Maybe there's
seperate nowheres.
She frowned, a
furrow knitting
her brow. I
see the desperation,
she comments,
quieter. The hopelessness.
Delapitated, though
young. She's young,
hopeless, and lost.
She's everyone on
the inside.

The Symptoms

Of being an AP world history kid:
1. it takes them hours to read a seven page passage
2. Pages without pictures make them want to cry and bang their heads against something hard
3. They beg for extra homework to make up for their test grades
4. They save everything for the night before
5. They always ask "can I see my grade?"
6. Last minute study groups are not productive
7. The thought of the month of may makes them break out into a cold sweat
8. Wondering every day why they took the class
9. Word copying is an art form
10. They fear F's more than the end of the world

i want to keep
it all inside
me, drag it all
in and store.
the music, the laughter,
the night.
I want it
i want it to be
all mine,
and nobody elses.
I want to have that,
at least.
I'll keep it, tucked away
and treasure it
and never
let it go away.
Because, it's my
night.

Blog Therapy

So, today is my shit day of the week. I just want to cry and go to bed. Really. Not because of homework, per se. or stress. I had a pretty laid back day, and I'm trying to not worry about things I can't change (like that math test, and that ONE question on the bio test I forgot to answer...)

So, it was really cold today. Go figure. It's winter, it's Indy. But, today, during fifth period, I was chilling, taking a test, and the fire alarm goes off. I'm wearing a tshirt and a skirt, no leggings. Yes, I'm stupid. Whatever. We stood outside for ten minutes, freezing. It was awful.

So, I stayed after school, originally for orchestra, because the Issma solo and ensemble contest is this saturday. But one of the trio was sick, so rehearsal was canceled. And then I said to myself, Quizbowl! I'll go. But that was canceled, too. So there I was, after school, doing nothing. I got to work on my hand, but whatever.

So, eventually, I find out that Issma is off, Evan is deathly ill, and won't be able to play with us Saturday. I was really really upset. I mean, it was my last year in orchestra, i was in group 1 (the highest group, and i'm a freshman, plus if we got gold, I'd go on to state). I worked so hard for it, and we don't even get to go. I don't even want to get up and 'support' my other friends, because I think I might cry. It's really not that big of a deal, but today it seems like it is. I mean, I wanted to go out with a bang, you know? It was supposed to be great, and fun, and all that. But... I can't even try to make it awesome. Its just awful.

The only good part of today was getting your letter. It made me smile for a long time :).

The stylings of... Emma's arm

from my arm today....

the air throbbed and shook with her perfect screams


I'm tearing myself open 'till I'm shreds.


The sound, sickly and rotting, rested in her palm.



Yes, i write on myself when inspirations strike. They strike at odd moments, so be sure to always have a pen. :) I wore one on a necklace once, and i got some strange looks... Also, i was thinking, I love poems, but wouldn't it be cool to test out the 'novel writer' theory again? maybe this summer I'll start a project and do a chapter a week. Sounds like a plan. Hopefully I can keep up.

Now, a poem

Beautiful
She'll do anything they
say, she'll do anything
to escape who she once
was, before they called
her beautiful and ruined
her. They took her,
rumpled and broken,
they took her innocence.
Spiraling down, she'll see
how she once was
but only remember how
they called her beautiful.
She'll cling to that among
the wreckage of her life.
They called her beautiful.

For Y

oh, do those pretty
little love stories
amuse you? make
you smile and wish
and sigh with delight?
Where every girl
has a prince
and only one in
a million is
a frog?
Young hearts, silly
wishes. I believed
it, too.
Do little boys think
there is a
princess for them
and only one in
a million is
a bitch.
Oops, i mean,
witch. What
a slip of the tongue.
I've grown older
and so have they
and now, one
in a million is
a prince,
the odds are too big
for me.
Do you still
believe those
pretty fairy tales?

A few clicks will help @TWLOHA win $1 Million for suicide prevention. Please share this with others. Vote here:http://bit.ly/7si7Be


Everybody vote. TWLOHA is important to me, and if you don't already know (I know, I think I talk about it too much, too) go check it out. :)

I'm collapsing
falling in,
my rotting roof and
false wooden beams,
all infested with mold
and the mildew
that creeps into everything.
I'm falling down,
the ground isn't even
picking me up
anymore.
That rotten gravity,
taking me.
My structure is
failing, my limbs
dont stand
like they used to.
The world has crushed me.

It just hit me. Three years, and this won't be my room anymore. I'll have to become an adult and go to college and start doing everything for myself. oh, goodness. I'll miss having a sister across the hall and a brother next door and everything. My decorated walls won't be mine anymore. Oh, sadness. Makes me feel good to be a teenager, but scared to be an adult. Oh, well. I'll handle it.

me

I just wrote this. Enjoy, and if you please, comment. I love to hear it

I shift my feet,
I stand my ground
But I find I cant
Make a sound.
The grumbling is around
Me, and dimming.
The air surrounds me,
Yet I can’t take
A breath.
My heart beats faster,
Chased.
I recall quickly, that
Bird. It flew in,
And couldn’t find
Its way out.
Caged, that’s how it
Was. That’s how
We all are.
That poor thing,
My eyes well
With tears unspent.
Oh, it seems my bank
Is full. ATM,
Can you make a transaction?
Those months of
Dry, arid desert,
Only now comes the rain.
I shift my feet,
But I can’t see
My desired target.
I close my eyes, slow.
I remember a slow summer day
I was just laughing.
Laughing and laughing.
The fingers hurt,
Sometimes. Scratching,
Not fun anymore.
Laughter forced,
Not carefree.
Oops, seems the
Well has gone dry.
Come back next year.
I shift my feet and look around
But the enemy I’m
Fighting is me.

Beautiful

oh, Ive been neglecting my blog. I'm sorry. It's just I've been kind of busy lately, with homework and homework and clubs and cleaning my room and homework. Hm, what's the majority there?

anyway, I haven't been writing as many poems, or anything, lately. I have a couple, and I'll share just one for now. I'm trying to write more, but what can I write about? I need some inspiration to roll my way.

Also, Dear Yasmeen. I am terribly sorry about your note, and I'm an awful friend. I can't take orchestra next year because I have to take required classes. Health and computer apps. And I want to take AP euro, and I really want to take the art classes I'm signed up for. So. I know, it sucks. But alec told me he was proud of me. I miss you, Y!

Dear Anna, I'm glad to know my bird matches your room. And I'm also mad at the mailman. He keeps forgetting your letter. Hm...

Now, for the poem. It doesn't have a title, none of mine really do.

All those broken promises.
I sit awake and cry
my tears becoming rain
pitter-patter on the
sidewalk, in the trees.
My quiet breaths
the wind, silent but
filled with words unspoken.
My mascara streaked cheeks
sidewalk chalk running
from summer rain, gone.
All those broken promises
the leaves lying dead
and withered on the ground

fail.

That sums up my quizbowl match. That's all I have to say

untitled

The cold creeped,
Like a bug.
Spindly legs and
Tick-tock
Hearts.
Fingers tracing
Letters, searing
Cold into your
Spine.
Tugging at sleeves,
Hiding wrists.
Lock the door,
Pull up the covers
And fall away
While the cold
Slithers in.

Alive

So, I wrote this poem last year. It's sad, i know. The original ending wasn't half so bad, but it was better this way. Sorry for the depressing things lately. Some people have already read this, but stick with it. the last stanzas are great, at least, I like them. Favorite poem i have ever written. Thanks for reading :) (the numbers are the stanza numbers, I had to label them when I applied for school)

"Alive"

1
Her footsteps, light and
Airy
Her breath escapes
In fine whispers
From her mouth
Cold air surrounds.

2
The darkness is
All-consuming,
Eating away
At everything.
She is hidden.

3
Water laps
At the quiet shore.
The ocean beckons,
Enticing,
Wanting.

4
Her footsteps are
Soft in the
Sand.
Breathing grows
Shallow.

5
Feet in first.
Calves,
Thighs,
Hips.
Standing in the
Silent water.

6
Her breath
Comes in gasps,
Shocked
By the cold.
No going back.
Already in too deep.

7
Her head goes
In, the
Saltwater streaming,
Hair billowing.
Broken memories
Surround.

8
The air leaves her,
Her eyes go dim.
Memories broken.
Her short-lived lies.
Can anything repair this?
Will anyone discover
Her hidden secrets?

9
Finally, her task is
Complete.
She is gone.
No going back,
Not now, not
Ever.
Her body floats,
A smile tinting her lips

10
Of course her
Family will mourn
The death
Of such a young girl.
But they didn’t know
Her secrets,
The reason of her
Demise.

11
The note will
Remain
Unread, buried somewhere.
But her secrets
And her
Story
Shall remain.

12
Eyes closed,
Can you breathe?
Do your lungs allow
That action still?
Or is the feeling
All-consuming?

13
The anger
Builds
Behind your eyes.
Can you see it,
Feel it,
Know it?

14
Calm your nerves,
Breathe in deeply,
And
Let go.
You are alive.

there are millions, billions of stories out there. I want to discover them all

the girl who works so hard, but never thinks she can be enough

the boy who was abused, hit, and crushed, but to afraid to tell.

the little girl with her teddy, wishing daddy would go away.

the teenager sitting in her room, blade in hand..


sorry, i'm in that kind of mood. i want to know that not all stories are bad.

dear anna,
did you get my bird?
love, emma

p.s. remember when we used to sign lylas?

Oh, joyous snow. It snowed all day today, much to my dismay. I thought that because this is Indiana that it wouldn't snow the predicted six inches. I was wrong, though. During my lunch period, I looked out into the courtyard and it looked like we were in a snowglobe! Big, round flakes. It was beautiful. No poem, though, because some things are best seen. I can't describe snow.

So there is a two hour delay for school tomorrow. Why am I not as excited as my entire school seems to be? I don't know.

So, we have a creative writing assignment for English, a rare thing in a class where all we seem to do is read and analyze. I am super glad, though, because I get to do something creative! but, it has to be two to three pages. I don't want to get boring. but I think i have something good. Maybe I'll post it. Maybe.

So, i've been constantly listening to music since I got home from school. Why is it that music is so pretty? So.... soothing almost? I can connect with music, and I tend to sing along. I adore music. I'm going to go ponder why.

How are people doing? whoever actually does read this.... shout out to you! thank you :)

Dec. 14 poem

I don't know if I've posted this yet. but i love it, so...

You sit in the window
And watch the world
Wind buy. The paths
Each day, with passive
Eyes and restless hands.
Each raindrop as it falls,
Your fingers itch to hold,
To treasure. Your eyes
See, but cannot hold.
People walking by,
Merrily yelling and laughing.
Your ears strain to hear,
But your eyes only see.
The rays of golden sun
That your shoulders
Ache to feel the warmth.
Your eyes close, the
Light too much.
You sit in the window
And watch the world
Wishing the world
Could see you.

late

So, last year, right before summer, I applied for this art school, Interlochen. It's in michigan, look it up if it pleases you. It's really nice, so nice that the room and board tuition is like, $40,000. Per year. That's right. Anyway, I applied and applied for a merit scholarship, because that was the only way that I was going to be able to go. So, lots later, I got a letter, actually a big envelope, that contained my acceptance letter as well as the school handbook, etc. I was sooo happy. But then, as you can imagine, something came along and ruined it. I did not get the merit scholarship. Long story short, I'm still at my same old non-boarding non-arts high school. Upsetting, but I like my school. Anyway.

So today I come home, and check the mail, you know. There is this GIANT packet thing from Interlochen. They keep sending me these things. Like, summer camp info and stuff. Oh, here it gets better. At the back of this info thing, telling of all the wonders of Interlochen and its programs (I applied to creative writing) is an application. That's right. I sent a letter back after my acceptance, but not being able to afford it, stating my reasons for not going. Seriously. Now, they send me an application? I swear, I wanted to go so badly, and pretty much gave up on going, because of the money. I don't want their stupid applications! I tossed it. Doesn't make me feel better, I kind of want to dig it out of the trash. But I'm not going to torture myself.

Wow, that felt good. See? I knew there was a reason I kept a blog! Venting about the little things. Thanks :)

OH, and a really late happy new years.

Light betrays
Dark, even in
the confines of
the night. it
steals what is
Darks, claims
those afraid.
Light thieves
and schemes.
Light will
always betray
the Darkness

pen around my neck

I'm not going to bore with all the little details of my new years celebration, though I did NOT get nearly enough sleep. Yay for break, still. I did write, and I think it will amuse you that I kept my pen on my necklace, just in case I had to write something down. I mean, how dorky can you get? But I did get some good lines down on my arm, and later, in my notebook. The pen was very handy and did get me a lot of weird looks and questions. Sorry, people, my dress does NOT have pockets. Anyway, poem time.

In my heat,
that cheesy
song, time after time,
would play.
The climax, swelling,
a kiss. Turn, don't
run anymore.
Go back, open up.
No more running
away. Time to
feel.
I'm lost, but
I'll find you.


(It's cheesy, I know. but those last two lines... I adore them.)