They Called Us Sheeps

You'd know why I try to hide my teeth when we're talking and you're too close

You'd know why I hate smiling while you're right there and your eyes aren't looking at mine

You would hear all my stories that I only tell God when I pray

     and you wouldn't ask me why all the time because you would know exactly why

You'd understand why I try to only eat when I'm at home

You'd know why I fell in love with him, and why I fell out

If you really knew me you wouldn't ask me why or when. & you wouldn't ask who or what...

Lost in "my" Paris

Paris was where the good looking guys didn't matter and the writing only did. Where sitting down, alone, in a coffee shop was the best thing to do on the weekends. It's where writing was the only thing you could think of, and the thinking would never stop.

But this was only "my" Paris

My first day in Paris seemed familiar, it felt like I was there before. Maybe in my dreams. I remember walking in with only two seats in back, one was by the guy I used to like in middle school; I should've tried something new. I should've sat by the weird kid in the very corner, but he kind of creeped me out.

But Paris helped me find myself. I wanted to speak up and I wanted to sit in the back with the weird kid now. I'd find myself falling in love with the smell of coffee and the brightness of the streets at night. & in Paris I still loved the way he'd look at me, even though he wasn't ever looking. 

I wanted to stay in Paris forever but I was lost.

She's caught up in the world of High School

When she goes to sleep at night she hates who she's become and who she has to keep being.

She walks down the hall like she doesn't care & like she never did.
She tells herself she's beautiful, even though she always was and even though she still is.
She pretends to be in love with that guy who's only in the movies.
She acts like he's her soulmate,
     but she's really in love with the Junior who's in Marching Band.

The One Way Phone Call

He said he couldn't handle a relationship right now.

"I don't wanna ruin your Summer.."

Ha, but you did. I would think about you like crazy. Every time I saw a young couple who didn't notice the world around them, I'd think of us. When they knew the world was wrong because "this isn't just young love," I'd think about how stupid we were together. I'd think about just running up to your door and planting one on you. & then I would think about egging your house or making you laxative cookies, but the best friend stopped me. You should really thank her.

" (sigh) Kay.."

I didn't want him to realize that this killed me inside. I didn't want him to hear all the heavy breathes I had to take before I could say just one word, so I would pull the phone away.

"Dr. Phil, I promise I don't wanna do this either. I, jus' can't be there for you right now."

"I'm goin' to the best friend's house. Love you. Bye."

I can't believe I said this. How did I say the word "love" after this. I was so stupid to even let my lips release the words like they were nothing. I knew he wasn't going to say it back, but my lips and tongue already let the words through.

"Bye."

He never said it back & for some weird reason it makes my brain wonder.
But now I look back and laugh at myself because I thought I was so in love.

Dear Santa Claus

Dear Santa Claus,

Can you teach me about ♡ because last Christmas I had someone, but not anymore.

Santa, 
Can you teach me to love? Because with your magic you can make me a perfect man. But I guess he wouldn't be human.. or would he, Santa?

Could you get me love? Because I haven't felt it in awhile and I know how you can do anything. Please, please. PLEASE let him notice me, because I try so hard all the time. I  PINKY promise Santa. I really do try. If you get the cookies don't you think I deserve something too? I mean c'mon, I leave out the best cookies and different flavors just incase you don't like some of them. Don't you know how hard ♡ is? Please Santa. I'm almost positive that Ms. Claus wasn't always sure she wanted to live in the North Pole forever.


...

But I guess you could just help me be inspired; help me be one of the best. Santa, could you help me become a writer?



♡, a young girl with writers block.



Santa, help me become a writer ♥

To the BOY

Thanks for the memories

Oh, and for the bracelet.

Reminiscing

LOST FOR WORDS FROM A CHILDHOOD PICTURE

      

the feet that walk around

I want the people to listen

and

to love me

I want them to scream 
that they noticed, 

and 
I want them to scream 
that they understood.

How to be someone the people will notice

I want to tell you how to be noticed. How to be someone that the people will look at.

How to be a writer. I want to tell you how to have the world in your hands, but I don't know where to put my words. I don't know where every period should go and where all the commas were meant to be.

I can only try and tell you how to grab someone's attention. I can try and tell you to change your views and just write the way they've always wanted you to. I could tell you the key to success, but not really because I'm trying to figure that out on my own.

I'm trying to figure this out on my own.

Oh, you wanted to know how to make the people notice?



So do I

Theft

Heaven help me

Please find me a new family

because

they tell me not to throw any of yourself away 

but that's a b*tch & I know it

My body feels like a child's and maybe I'm changing my mind..

Maybe I'll just stand staring with my shoes in my hands

but

How many grown men would get that?

Everybody else would but them

So let's just drink our tea and confuse them

Let's go to the next space shuttle trip

Let's dream of us

Make The Words Disappear

BORN

I was born a writer

TRY

I'm going to try

THE STORMS

 No matter how bad a storm is, we rise or fall

FREE

He was free

He had nothing, he had life

but not in the end

I Remember Being A Kid...

I remember the first time you cried DAD. I remember the way you closed your eyes and danced with me around the living room. I remember the song playing in the background and how I was trying not to cry.

I remember the first time I made you cry MOM. & I am sorry for that. I remember the words I yelled and how you couldn't even look at me.

I remember our brown van we use to travel in. I even remember looking through the hole in the back and watching how fast we were going. I remember Jane throwing up every road trip. I remember the time she threw up all over my foot
    & how I was wearing flip flops.

I remember telling my sister that she was a mistake and the way I felt after seeing her heart drop. 

I remember the day my parents told me all their "secrets" and when they let me know they weren't perfect. 

I remember the phone call at the mall on my birthday & I remember the car ride right after. I remember the family coming over telling me everything will be okay. & I remember that it wasn't. I remember all the lies I had to tell myself and all the tears I couldn't hold in.

I remember when me and my brother shared a room; when I look back now it's hard to believe he ever loved me. & I remember when I used to steal his clothes and wear them to school because I liked them better than my own. 

I remember my first kiss and how gross it was.

I remember how I wet my pants all the time
    & how I was in middle school.

I remember being a kid and thinking that I would never grow up.

Dear Tooth Fairy, Santa Clause, & the Easter Bunny

Thanks for helping me believe that dinosaurs roamed the streets at night and that the fairies flew during the day. Thanks for helping me believe magic was pure magic and not something science could define. Thanks for all the pixie dust I would find on my birthday that helped me become a wizard.  Thanks for all the rocket ships I got to go on and all the new worlds I got to explore.

Thanks Santa for making me think that miracles only happened because your reindeers let them. & thanks for never giving me coal or putting me on the naughty list. Thanks for all the cookies you saved me in the morning and thanks for those left over carrots.

& thanks Easter Bunny for all the scavenger hunts you made me go on and thanks for all the new hide outs you let me find. Thanks for always letting me find the biggest prizes; I know you let me bet my sisters and brother on purpose because you liked me a little more. & to the Tooth Fairy thanks for all the money you gave me. Thanks for all the candy I bought with it and all the cookies I ate after. Thanks for handing my mom my teeth after, she really wanted to keep them. She always told me she asked you if she could keep them, thanks for always letting her. 

Thanks for never letting society tell me I was wrong. & thanks for never letting me down when the sun finally came up the next morning. 

The One Word That is Perfect

I have this word that haunts me everyday and has been since I can remember. I know that I will never be able to have it and I know I can never reach it, but I still keep trying to grab it by the neck and make sure I've got it. I keep trying to prove people wrong; I keep trying to reach for the sky with only a step ladder.

I try and tell myself nothing is impossible but that is just a lie they taught us when we were young. They told us to dream to the moon and back, but I wanted to dream to Jupiter. They taught me that I could be anything, but they were lying. The school teachers were lying. None of us in this class, in this school are ever going to reach it. None of us will ever be
perfect.

I Need Those Days

Some days I just need to hear the words "I love you" from my parents and from the guy I'm dating because he doesn't know any better. I need those days where I can wrap myself in your arms and you let me know everything will be okay, even though I know it probably won't be.

Some days I just need to curl up in a ball and cry for hours on my bed. I need those days where I know you're not there for me and I know you're never coming back, but some days I want your shoulder to support me. Some days all I do is dream of you coming back and pretending like this whole mess never happened.

Some days I need to tell myself that you hate me, even though I know you don't. I need those one in a blue moon days where I tell myself that I'm unwanted and to not care about anything or anyone else in life but me. I need to tell myself that nobody really needs me and that I am only one person who can't make a difference
    but I know this isn't true, and I need more of those days where I have to be honest with myself and let disappointment set in.

But I already have those days where mistakes are made because I've forgotten that everyone is human. & I always have those days where my best effort isn't going to be enough.
I need those days where reality is willing to slap me in the face and tell me that somethings are impossible.

Paper

If this were a paper there would be tears everywhere.

This is only High School

I decided that I will just sleep and let go.
I decided that not trying will be okay someday.
I decided that even if I go nowhere after, this someone will always be there for me

because in the end this was only high school.
In the end you probably were somebody.
In the end you might have made it through anything,

but in the end we'll loose ourselves.
In the end we'll forget that we have to make someone out of us.
In the end we'll just remember their faces and not the names.

So I'll try and keep pushing and I guess I'll try to work these problems out.
 but in the end I decided if I just stop trying, death still won't grab me by the ankles.

The Greatest

Rock out like you were the greatest.


Rock out like all the guilt in your stomach just escaped you, or rock out because all this pain was gone. Rock out like all your mistakes taught you something, but too bad they never will.

Rock out like this class you hate just got cancelled or rock out like you passed the test. Rock out like you never had to think of this again. & rock out like you just reached the moon and back. Rock out like dreams became your reality or rock out because nightmares never do.

Rock out like the first time you made eye contact with the school's cutest boy, and rock out like he actually knew your name. Rock out because even after he graduated he still says hi.

Rock out like the stars were always up at night and the next morning didn't have to come.

Rock out like life gave us a map with all our left and rights. & rock out like you just robbed the bank with no cameras in sight. Rock out like you just won first place because he only noticed you, or rock out because he didn't and you no longer have to try.

Rock out like you just had your first kiss. Rock out like the movies always ended your way and rock out like Bella choose Jacob. (I hate Twilight) Rock out like your parents lived forever or until you died. & rock out like you never had to worry about having a nickel or a dime.

Rock out like this poem was the best. Rock out like someone actually cared. & rock out like you didn't have to worry about giving up or disappointing, but now rock out because your parents just let you know their proud of you. Rock out like you've just realized setting your own bar of perfect isn't the smartest. Rock out because you've realized it will be okay. Rock out because this isn't the end of the world. Rock out like you were the greatest.

Tape for the duct(s)

People decided to change me and make me some sort of fashion trend. They wanted to make me more unique so I let them change me. I let them add some colors and prints. & now I'm not "me," now I hate looking at myself. I hate how I let them do this to me, how I let them tell me all about this word "unique". The word that seems to make me something completely different. I wanted to keep myself, but I couldn't. I let them tell me it's okay to stick some blues and greens here and there. I let them tell me it was okay to change.

But even though I let them change me I can still fix almost anything, except for broken hearts and torn up families. & I still can't fix cancers or shattered mirrors, but I can still feel you touch me with your cold hands. I can still feel you ripping and tearing me apart. I can still hear the things you said about me. & I still want to cause you all the right pains in all the wrongs places. & I'm trying to torture you, but I can't move. The layers and layers on top of me won't let me move. They won't let me see or feel things anymore. & now I'm stuck right where you left me. "Pick me back up." You won't listen.  You made me uninteresting.

The Title

Let me tell you about..


Something that is made up of ugly colors.
Something so heavy it helps build muscle.
Something so amazing it can break bones, windows, street lamps.
Let me tell you about something you trip on.
Something that helps you get writers brick block.
Something so simple it makes you wonder about life,
     makes you think a little different.
Something I use to imagine your death.
Something that thugs use to break in.
Let me tell you about something that made my heart race.
Something so simple we stack them to build buildings to the sky.
Something that looks like a stop light when you hold it a certain way.
Something that birds use as a house.
Let me tell you about a unique flower vase.
Something that helps build a strong foundation.
Something that can be used to celebrate, like confetti.
Something that helps me knock you out.

Let me tell you about
b
r
i
c
k
s

The Little Girl's Mind

"He touched you? You let him touch you."

Yes.
I let him put his hands all over me,
     let him kiss me everywhere,  
          let him hold my body against him.
Does that bug you, mother? Does it bother you that I'm not your little girl anymore. That I saw what you really were and now I don't want to be anything like you.
Does it?
I'm asking you a question. Should I SCREAM it?
DOES IT BUG YOU
Tell me mother because lately I don't care if he loves me or not. 
Lately I don't care if you want me.

Lately I don't care about you
     I've never cared about you.

& after I slam that door behind me I'm not coming back.
Just try and stop me.



    (PLEASE TRY & STOP ME)
Mom, I need you.

& death wakes us up

"What if life is a dream and death wakes us up?"

My bones say I'm alive.
They tell me to escape and be free.
     That in the end I can't look back.
Everything will be okay my bones tell me.
We all die, my bones remind me.

My bones remind me that one day they'll stop speaking, whispering, yelling.

My bones are telling me to speak up.
They are hurting me. They want everyone to know what they're saying,
     what they're feeling.
I want to speak up, I really do I tell my bones. They ignore me.

My bones are telling me to try something new
     something courageous.
I tell my bones I'm scared. They won't listen.
I tell them I can't. They won't pay any attention.

My bones won't give up.

& my bones are becoming louder and louder
     they won't stop. They won't quiet down.
They keep telling me things..
My bones keep speaking.
Listen to me - to your heart. My bones said.

Thinking

Delete. Backspace. Select all. Delete.

Emotions? Yeah, I have them.


Fellings? I have those too.


Ideas? I have many.

but for some reason I can't seem to express myself
     like I used to,                                   or at all.
For some reason I keep caring about what you think about me.
I keep wondering if you'll like this.

For some unexplained reason I want my audience back,
     but why should my audience matter.
I want to live life knowing that I did things and said things for me, not for you [Mr. & Mrs. Poetry].
Why should I want YOU to think about this post, the last or the first, twice?

Eh, who knows -WAIT- I know,
     because I want to feel appreciated.

I want myself back, but for no reason I can't be myself.
I can't be myself. 
I can't tell myself everything will be okay because people keep worrying me.
Scaring me.


I want to get to the water and not just get the carrot. 

Like crazy

I'm thinking about you like crazy.

     24/7 and you're always on my mind.
I'm thinking about you like erasers think about mistakes, even though to me you're perfect.
Like these poems think about ending.
Like life thinks about death
     and death thinks about life.

I'm thinking about you like these floors think about people walking all over them.
Like coffee thinks about chocolate.

I'm thinking about you like I should be thinking about this test, but instead I keep thinking about you.
Thinking about you like potters think about every hand movement.

& then I start thinking about how I used to hold your hand.
Thinking about last winter and how we were young together. 
I am not only thinking about you but all the times we had together. 
The kiss on the forehead that meant everything to me when I felt alone.

I think about every time you made my heart race.

I'm thinking about you like these words think about their author.
& like the end of the page thinks about being flipped.



That's how I'm thinking about you.

How you matter to me & How you don't

To sum it all up, I hate you.
I loathe you somedays.
I hate how sometimes I feel like your shadow.
Making everything I ever cared about seem normal.
Like it's the easiest thing in the world.
I just want to tell you that I don't want to think and worry about you.
I don't want to care about your opinion.
I just want to be real with myself and spill out a couple of lines that are 100% true 100% honest and 100% real.

"I'm sorry remind me your name?"

Remind you?
I never told you.
I never even bothered to glance up.

Why is it that my name defines who I am and where I came from. Why should it define what reputations I had, or now have.

Within the first five second you have already made a judgement; just by the way I stood there. By my clothes. My hair. Trying to judge if I am a just another "copy."
 
Maybe this whole thing about "being different" is just being a copy from the first person who was the real original.
Maybe being a copy is the new original.

Maybe "being different" really should make a teacher, or a student, want to learn more.
Maybe being them isn't just about wearing "different" clothes.
Maybe there really is something crazy and unique about them.
Maybe they know how to put words in all the right places.
Maybe they are the creative ones thinking about the way we go day by day differently.
Maybe they're the kids who never let their mind get ruined by the rules of society.

Like the dogs have collars

"GO AHEAD AND RELEASE YOUR FEARS"

I'm afraid that in this class I will lose myself,
because I want to be noticed, because I want to be acknowledged.
I'm afraid of trying to be like someone else.
I'm afraid that there will be more days where being "me" isn't good enough.
I'm afraid of one day waking up and having no one there beside me.
I'm afraid of waking up to a world that's been destroyed
      maybe they were all tourists.
 
I'm afraid of becoming a tourist.
I'm afraid that one day I'll reach perfect, and have nothing to strive for.
I'm afraid of perfection. It's the thing that eats my stomach inside.

I'm afraid that after this semester this blog with be nothing more than an online journal that only me, myself, and I will read. Maybe that would be best though; if in the end I will be the only one reading why care about someone's acknowledgements.

I'm afraid that in 2 years my name will already be forgotten.

I'm afraid that all this effort will go to waste.


I'm afraid I have fears like the dogs have collars.
& like the ants have hills.

Shut up & listen

I am confused in this world, in this class, with these people.

These people who apparently know nothing about respect. The people who think being loud and never stopping is the "hip" thing to do, but I guess we weren't all raised the same. I guess--I know that I am different than you and you. 

You being the ones I hate the most. The ones I wish were never here. The ones that make me angry and bitter. Making me frustrated by hearing all those voices whispering while one person is trying to stand up and talk. The people helping me get anxiety inside and having to tell myself to calm down and stop. Stop the way I tense up when I am dying to scream SHUT UP. & all I can do is try my best to block them out, but even when I try I'll still see those things looking straight at me poking me minute by minute.. bugging me about things I never cared about. In the end I am just confused.

Love?

Tell me again why love can't exsist while we are young.
Tell me how I never understood what I understand now.

You can't compare my love to your love.
You can't say I didn't really love him when that was all I knew as a kid about the word and emotion.

Love was the feeling you got in your stomach when he looked at you.
Love was knowing you would marry him during recess and hold hands together the rest of the day.
Love was and is different for every age.
Love grows over time.

& don't tell me I can't say I love you
& don't tell me it can't be
Because I'll love you with all I can and that all I can is real.

Losers

The people in front of the class eager to learn
The people who sit in the library to study or to read
The people who don't socialize much
The people who need to hear the same things twice
The people who make sure they can see the board
     Only for the notes in the class

But these losers will go somewhere in life
These losers will become something
& will be great at it
These are the losers who didn't lose anything but the realness of what you thought of them
These are the losers who never get enough credit
Who never see too many second chances for 'first' impressions
Here's to the losers
Who aren't really losing at all

What I am too afraid to accept

I know I'm human by the way my stomach drops
     The way it drops because I look up & you're still there
By the way I cried just yesterday
How I had a heart to heart with someone I've only known for 2 weeks
2 weeks and he already understood me
I know I'm something more than just a machine by the way I get "butterflies"
How I have a different output for every input
Because I need to advance to survive
I know I am human
Because I can succeed beyond what you think of me

The Intro

This is my intro, where half of you will never read this but the ones that do probably won't get anything out of it. I tell you about myself in a short paragraph, always trying to remember my new name is Dr. Phil. I am someone who loves to write but my writing goes everywhere, it's not the boring English paper's form. The thing I think about the most when I write is why pour so much emotion into something if in 10 years you will be sitting down with a huge pile of poems, short stories, quotes and thinking no one ever read these so it didn't ever make an impact. Why write when no one really cares to read or to listen?

& even though I ask myself this question.. I will always be a writer.