I need to vent...

I never realized how hard it is to not talk about something you need to get out. 

It isn't like I don't have people to talk to, I think I do, I just, need to say it another way.

To be honest, I just want to feel less.... like I do. Whatever that is.

So, second day of school, I walk into one of my classes and I found someone  had taken my seat. Not entirely caring, I just sat across, and later found it to be a girl I hadn't met before. Not knowing her name for the whole first week of school, I merely made small talk, along with everyone else at the table. But then, about halfway through the week, it started getting hard to look at her eyes. I felt I couldn't move. Slowly, it got harder and harder to be calm around her, even though I wasn't being too awkward (I think). I fell for her. Stupid, huh? One week, not even knowing her name. Right when I started to admit this, I learned that she has a boyfriend.

That is how this happy story ends. Thanks, just felt like putting it up here. Needed to get it out.  

Excerpt from my notebook- Part 1

I have been having the most difficult times with ad-blockers on this website. It kept me from being able to post for awhile, but I have that figured out now. 

So, school has resumed... I may have taken on a bit too much, but I expect to at least pass my classes. 

Good luck to everyone else facing school. 

Anyways, I started a new notebook on the first day of school, and I plan on taking small parts of it out and putting up here. In my English class, he gives us about 10 minutes of free time at the beginning of class to text/talk with our friends, so I just write instead. 

Here we are.

The air in the room was warm,

Not an uncomfortable heat,

Just not so cold.

There was no tightness against my skin from the constricting pressures of ice stricken oxygen.

I felt calm. 

It was white,

and not the bleak form of white that artists crave to change,

The kind of white you find against the back of your eyelids,

It wasn't dark there, 

Like usual. 

Just still. 

I could feel the water drip off of my tongue,

Sweet like honey.

But not the viscous, sticky, type. 

The type of honey he found mixed into his sweet tea earlier. 

She was also sweet,

Earlier. 

Seated halfway between the door and her seat,

My feet were itching to leave,

to prove a simple point.

To make a stand,

I can't stand here.

There was a time this room wasn't shaking,

That my hand wasn't shaking,

My eyes never shake anymore.

I've settles down in my mind,

This time,

I've found comfort in your silence.

The walls were white,

Only covered in the sweetness of a forgotten smile. 

"I Will Wait" - Mumford and Sons

Mumford and Sons- I Will Wait

I will always be waiting for you. 

Always.

Bookcase City

In my room I have four bookcases.

That isn't to say I don’t have only four bookcases worth of books.

There are stacks of stories cluttered on my desk,

Fables and Fictions filling my floor space. 

I've always liked the idea of walking among these pages so precariously perched in my mind,

Bound paper stacks pose as skyscrapers, 

Their interior office cubicles containing billions of syllables,

Ink imprints are radioactive on the pages,

Their atomic infrastructure explodes in the dimensions of your imagination.

And sometimes,

They leave a small boy,

Clutching a pillow,

Wondering what to do with his life

After completing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Or the Lord of the Rings Trilogy,

Or that one book he found in the back of the library.

He has devoted every part of his being into these characters,

Felt them breathing down his neck as he lay reading,

Stayed up and had clever conversations exploring their thoughts on science and religion,

And held them in his hands for hours on end,

Books are dead lovers.

We hang on to their last breath,

They have built up to their death with the last will and testament of our capacity to move forward,

Use the information we receive to help us become a better person,

Like a story book character,

We’ll be wrapped around simple sentence configurations,

Accompanied by pictures that put us in the constraint of context,

It isn't about being able to define someone,

It’s about understanding where they come from,

Because I come from the fictitious facilities of being 5,

I still wade in the pool of memories collected over those years,

I remember having several random objects and toys that could somehow coexist in an imaginary world known as my living room.

I come from the days spent imagining we weren't so small,

That the electrodes boiling in our brains weren't so unimportant in the grand scheme of things,

I've noticed this in the outlines of scenic pictures,

A landscape of unimaginable lengths,

Filled with the lore of our storybooks,

I've noticed that in these digital photos,

Our imagination is that one pixel.

That pixel that is a different shade then those around it,

The one that just,

Makes the picture unique.

The possibilities are infinite,

 Only defined by what we find in our hearts,

Not by the printed folds of any book,

But we all try to explain it,

We all try to draw straight lines with these closed eyes,

We haven’t realized it isn't about defining anything,

It’s about understanding where it comes from.

I come from a book I published in my sleep,

Where I rewrote the pages so many times,

I've forgotten all the lies I've scribbled in the margins.

Where time seemed to bend with the binding,

And it felt like a lifetime of waiting to find out what I wanted to say,

I have something to say,

I search authors for answers and see if they've already said it.

I've been looking for the nucleus of an idea to blow me away,

For buildings to come crashing to my feet,

When I figure out how to tell you…

I don’t know who I am.

That is why I pour myself into characters shoes,

Trying to find a size that fits,

Something that makes sense.

Fiction is easy to perceive when you aren't looking for the truth,

Instead,

Looking for another world out there in-between two covers.

Some bookcase city looking for a story to tell.

I wish we could fall in love

I wish I could fall in love,

The kind of love that writes its own poetry,

That generates electricity from fingertips,

We could power a city together,

Sparks flying from hand holding,

I’m not looking for any July lightning storm,

I’m looking for a power line lined with kisses,

Can we ever forget this feeling?

Every second wrapped around wrists like bracelets with the word “Peace” written on them.

Like necklaces that hang lowly around you chest,

With a smiley face etched in yellow.

I wish I could fall in love.

Bend earthquakes into puzzles,

Just to shake up your head,

Turn tornadoes into a slight breeze to sweep you off your feet,

I’d hold you like a hurricane,

Twisting destruction into flowers,

Like David Copperfield,

I’ll make the elephants that are weighing down your heart, 

DISAPPEAR.

We could be an illusion together,

We can look like nothing special,

But act like the fucking coolest ninja ever,

Like,

A Jackie Chan relationship,

We’ll be silent when we walk,

And karate chop pieces of the sky out to take home with us.

I wish I could fall in love.

Not the kind of love where cupid only knocked one of us on our ass,

But one where we were both hit so hard,

It was like a fucking freight train of arrows burrowed into our souls.

I know it sounds cheesy,

But we could have that “love at first sight” kinda thing.

I’d look at you,

You’d look back,

And bam.

It would be that easy.

No, 

Not easy,

Simple. 

You would never be easy,

It's like setting the level on Mortal Kombat.

You want easy, 

Just so you can win,

But that first level is never worth it.

You’ll be worth it.

A cash value equal to your heart would make digits spin around the globe,

But not every nickle and dime can amount to the sum of the hardships we've faced.

It'll be the penny tossed into a pond, 

Saying,

I wish we could fall in love.

"More Often Than Sometimes" by Shane Koyczan

This is a beautiful, and very personal, piece of writing Koyczan has shared. Definitely one that has the capability of relating to anyone and moving them. Although I'm young, I find connections, most definitely different than that of anyone else. It is one thing that never ceases to amaze me about writing.

It is different to everyone. 

Instructions for a Bad Day Challenge

There is a girl I met at a poetry competition who truly inspired me. We both love Shane Koyczan, his poetry, his style, all of that. After we found that connection, we started to understand each other. Even if just a little bit, it was something. She carries one of his poems around with her, all the time. "To This Day", a poem dedicated to those who have been and are being bullied. It meant so much to her that she carried it around with her all the time, just seconds away to read. This inspired me endlessly. I have decided to try this, to help myself in my struggles, as her poem has helped her. I picked "Instructions for a Bad Day" also by Koyczan. I will carry it around everyday this school year, and if I ever feel alone, I know I at least have that. This poem means a lot to me. It gives me hope that one day, I don't have to be sad. That I can quit feeling so down, and I'll eventually lift others up. I am not a very happy person. This poem feels like a best friend, and I really need that now. I hope it helps me figure some things out. 


"Instructions for a Bad Day" by Shane Koyczan

There will be bad days.

 Be calm.

 Loosen your grip, opening each palm slowly now.

 Let go.

 Be confident. 

Know that now is only a moment, and that if today is as bad as it gets,

 understand that by tomorrow, today will have ended. 

Be gracious. 

Accept each extended hand offered, to pull you back from the somewhere you cannot escape.

 Be diligent. 

Scrape the gray sky clean.

Realize every dark cloud is a smoke screen meant to blind us from the truth, 

and the truth is whether we see them or not - the sun and moon are still there and always there is light.

 Be forthright.

 Despite your instinct to say "it's alright, I'm okay" - 

be honest.

 Say how you feel without fear or guilt, without remorse or complexity. 

Be lucid in your explanation, be sterling in your oppose. 

If you think for one second no one knows what you've been going through;

 be accepting of the fact that you are wrong, 

that the long drawn and heavy breaths of despair have at times been felt by everyone -

 that pain is part of the human condition and that alone makes you a legion. 

We hungry underdogs, we risers with dawn, we dissmisser's of odds, we blesser's of on – 

we will station ourselves to the calm. 

We will hold ourselves to the steady, be ready player one.

 Life is going to come at you armed with hard times and tough choices, 

your voice is your weapon,

 your thoughts ammunition –

 there are no free extra men, 

be aware that as the instant now passes, it exists now as then.

 So be a mirror reflecting yourself back, 

and remembering the times when you thought all of this was too hard and you'd never make it through. Remember the times you could have pressed quit – but you hit continue.

 Be forgiving.

 Living with the burden of anger is not living.

 Giving your focus to wrath will leave your entire self absent of what you need.

 Love and hate are beasts and the one that grows is the one you feed. 

Be persistent. 

Be the weed growing through the cracks in the cement, beautiful -

 because it doesn't know it's not supposed to grow there.

 Be resolute.

 Declare what you accept as true in a way that envisions the resolve with which you accept it.

 If you are having a good day, be considerate.

 A simple smile could be the first-aid kit that someone has been looking for.

 If you believe with absolute honesty that you are doing everything you can - do more.

 There will be bad days, 

Times when the world weighs on you for so long it leaves you looking for an easy way out.

 There will be moments when the drought of joy seems unending.

 Instances spent pretending that everything is alright when it clearly is not, check your blind spot.

 See that love is still there, be patient.

 Every nightmare has a beginning, but every bad day has an end.

 Ignore what others have called you.

 I am calling you friend. 

Make us comprehend the urgency of your crisis. 

Silence left to its own devices, breed's silence.

 So speak and be heard. 

One word after the next, express yourself and put your life in the context –

 if you find that no one is listening, be loud. 

Make noise. 

Stand in poise and be open. 

Hope in these situations is not enough and you will need someone to lean on.

 In the unlikely event that you have no one, look again.

 Everyone is blessed with the ability to listen. 

The deaf will hear you with their eyes.

 The blind will see you with their hands.

 Let your heart fill their news-stands, Let them read all about it.

 Admit to the bad days, the impossible nights.

 Listen to the insights of those who have been there, but come back.

 They will tell you; you can stack misery, you can pack despair, you can even wear your sorrow –

 but come tomorrow you must change your clothes. 

Everyone knows pain. 

We are not meant to carry it forever. 

We were never meant to hold it so closely, 

so be certain in the belief that what pain belongs to now will belong soon to then.

 That when someone asks you how was your day, realize that for some of us – 

it's the only way we know how to say,

 be calm.

 Loosen your grip, opening each palm, slowly now –

 let go.