Drop Down

into a well of
black feeling.
Anger swells,
a tidal wave.
Sadness pulls,
ripping at the ties
you have forged
to happiness.
Some days,
riding high.
Others, plunged so
far below, you
don't want to recover.
You want to
sink deeper,
until you fade
away. Until
you can't go
further, and you're
never coming
back.
Let me pull you out.

Aching

Smile, go on
Force it. A laugh here
A tease there.
Now don't you look happy?

A sick approximation.
A terrible flaw.
I know things
You're not happy
Are you?

Smiles in the lips,
tears in the eyes.
Bruises hidden
beneath.
Keep pretending

Act like you have
no clue.
Live it up, you're
loved. But you have
your boundaries,
right?

Fill your head with
air, no room lefrt
to think of
those bruises.
None at all.

---This is a poem I wrote just last night. No, not about me of course. But do you ever find yourself sinking? Falling down further and further, but all you need is a tug out? Sometimes you have to tug yourself out. Not too easy.
School has got me down. I have so much homework, it seems to all be crashing around me. For some reason, I always imagine a wall of my books and homework, just falling on me, and I can't move out of the way.... but all I really need is some down time. Read a book, write a poem. A happy one, perhaps? We shall see.
Life can only get better from here, right?

A

Lone.
Silently creeping
into hearts; stomachs.
Slithering ice hot
fingers to each bone. Chilled.
The well of tears
never runs dry.
It strikes, like
as summer storm.
Strong, heedless, and leaves you
powerless. Always hovering.
Clear your mind,
forget all of it.
Not easy enough.
Not nearly easy enough.
Alone, you fade
a
w
a
y

Goodbye

I was thinking about it, dork that I am, as I was watching iCarly. How could you begin to say goodbye to the life youve built? A home, a room, a niche, so to speak. A place where you feel as if you sometimes belong. Where you can ask a room full of people for a ride home, and have people offer to drive you, if you needed it. Where you know your way around the town. My teacher today said "some of you may be counting the minutes until you get out of here. My friend up in Chicago wants to leave Chicago, too. Because you know your way around. You know?" And I did. How many times have I dreamed of getting out of Indy? Of moving somewhere else, and getting to start over. Why would I want to start over me? I mean, of course I know the appeal. But the more I think about it, were I at boarding school right now, I doubt that I'd be adjusted. I'd be homesick and crying for my mom and dad and friends and good old school. Maybe. As much as I wish I were rich and couldve gone, a part of me is happy that I didnt, because I want my high school years to be surrounded by friends that know me and love me all the same.

For some reason, all I want to do right now is cry. Maybe its because I don't know how to get together with old friends. I've missed so much. In some cases, I think we can catch up. In others.... I don't even know anymore. Maybe it's the fact that my fingers hurt from cello and typing. Or, that besides near constant homework work, I'm behind in some classes. Or maybe I just need to cry because my head is full of thoughts, and I just want to forget some things. But it's harder and harder. In some respects, I'm done.

And a run to the mailbox to mail a letter might have been just what I needed.

Chapter One

Breathe, I told myself again. Just let the air OUT of your lungs, and you'll be fine. Oh, no, I was not. Okay, okay. Making amends, I was better than fine. I was standing in front of what had to be the most perfect high school ever. If high school could actually be good.

See, two months earlier, I'd gotten a letter that informed me that I was to be on my way to Starway Art Academy. As in, perfect for me. But I hadn't applied, and yet here I was, loaded up with a full scholarship and my bags in hands, ready to start my freshman year of high school off right. At art school.

I stared up at the majestic school building. It was everything that one could imagine about a boarding school; The stone walls that reached higher than seemed possible. Sprawling green lawns with students milling around, and the castle-like appearance characteristic to all boarding school fantasies since Harry Potter.

I grabbed my bags and start towards the front office. I hadn't been able to fly out for the tour, so I was there a day before classes started to become acquainted with the school. So, there were minimal students there and I was free to wander around all day with a guide. Huh, what a contradictory statement. I gripped my bags harder and walked into the school.

Surprisingly well lit for the grand appearance, it was welcomingly cool. The front office was straight ahead, and the doors were contemporary glass, just as it had been at my old school. I walked in and the lady at the desk glanced up at me. She had the longest fingernails I had ever seen, pink and dangerous. I tried not to stare too much as I made my way up.

"Um, excuse me. I'm Jilla Camberry and I'm here for my schedule and room assignment." I looked away from those killer nails again.

"Yes, I have you right here, Jilla. I hope that you enjoy Starway, and welcome! Your roommate is Melody Barker and she's already up in your room. Ask her if you have any questions, because she was here for orientation. She's a freshman, just like you, so you might have some classes together. Your room is on the third floor. Elevator is on the left. Welcome to Starway!" She punctuated this with a smile and a wave of her killer-nailed hand. I half-smiled and took the schedule and papers from her. Before she looked down, I noticed that around her pupils is a strange sort of light. Almost as though her pupils were set back from the rest of her iris... I blinked and dragged myself and my things out the door to the elevator.

(obviously not the end of chapter one, and not the best writing I've ever done, but it's all I can hope to type at the moment. To be continued...)

Motivation

so I lied, anna. Your letter is still sitting on my desk becaue I'm forgetful. It's written. Hurry! Soon, it'll go out of date.

I noticed that many of my titles are song titles or song lyrics. This is because I love all forms of art. I love writing, I play cello, I love clay, wire, and printmaking, and was in the school play last year. Art is me :). Music, j'adore!

Words are immortal. Think on that a moment. Thats why I want to write. Words are immortal, and if they never die, neither does your soul. tee hee, that was cheesy.

Art is my relief. From homework, from life, from stress. Art is my escape where I can imagine anything and everything to make and mold with my own hands. Art is where I can be who I want, and shove all false pretenses to the side to just let myself be. When I'm sad, are helps me to calm down. When life seems to much, I grab my sketchbook to scrawl something happy down. A tree, which are always symbolic to me because they are growth. They are natural and pure and beautiful and are the essence of life. Art helps me breathe.

Running

Today, it was a normal day at school. Well, somewhat. Is anything ever normal? Anyhow, I went home and did homework until about eight, when i pretty much got sick of it all. I decided to go for a run. Like, an actual run. I used to think I couldn't do it alone. Like, I needed someone to run with to actually motivate myself to keep going. I was wrong. I ran about, say, three miles? And all by myself, it felt like I was the only one in the entire world, just me and my breath and my steps. It was amazing. Just thought I should share that.

Anna, I am mailing your letter tomorrow, I promise! Its all written and stamped and stuff. Yay!