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.)