I missed the air particles at Ethan's place. Here, running away from something that's not even chasing me, the air particles manage to croak; "Run, run, run."
And then it hit me. What I was really running away from was chasing me. I was running away from my emotions and I didn't realize that they were, in fact, backpacked onto me. They were heavily weighing down on my back. My back felt fragile, broken... like my heart.
I felt like crashing to the ground. The thick tears and emotions were superior, rising above me. The day before at school when I nearly melted my esophogaus, I felt numb, besides the physical pain. I scanned the ground desperately. I managed to spot something. I leaned against it, its surface cold. A dumpster. It towered above me. I tried standing on a soggy cardboard box. Someone had drawn on it with a Sharpie and turned it into a club house. They hard and steady rhythm of the rain had soaked the box and poked holes in it. It may have just been a cardboard box, but I could just imagine the tears streaming down some kid's face. It was more than a box to them. When the bad economy came and pounded on Annabella's family, it forced them to sink down, and they were fragile. Her parents both were unemployed so they moved all the way to Colorado. They were the box, and I was the child. Everyone saw Annabella as just some student at Kiser Middle, but she was more to me. And when that child's laying in their bed weeping for their ruined club house, you know I'll be weeping for my best friend.
I stood on the box to long and my heavy tears weighed me down and I fell to the ground. I heard a loud, sick, snap. I sat up and my arm hung awkwardly. I searched my pockets for my phone, but I couldn't find it. I saw it sinking into a puddle out of the corner of my eye
Well.. this was pain. I was looking for something to hurt myself, but I didn't even have to try. Thats really all I remember because then it was black and I was dreaming about falling down a never ending hole and crying and screaming as if someone could help me. I was helpless.
Someone once told me your dreams reflect how you feel. When I first went to Kiser in the 6th grade I had dreams about schools full of aliens and cacti in the hallways. This was when I had my mama and she called me crazy. The therapist told me I was experiencing certain emotions to cause the dream like feeling lost and out of place because everything was so new and weird to me.
And then I woke up and I was crying. It wasn't crying like a girl with a broken heart but it was more a "I can't take this, somebody help me" cry. I was crying for no reason in particular- That was a lie I told someone who walked by. I was crying because I was feeling weak, and helpless. Like a child in the middle of parents arguing, hungry for a divorce. And then it was all black again. Not a deep sleep, but a faint. In my head, I saw a cyclone of yellows and blacks and stars.
I don't remember any one ever coming but I guess they did because I woke I woke up in my own bed. Cleetus was there at my feet, of course. With a nasty rawhide. Yuck.
And then it hit me. What I was really running away from was chasing me. I was running away from my emotions and I didn't realize that they were, in fact, backpacked onto me. They were heavily weighing down on my back. My back felt fragile, broken... like my heart.
I felt like crashing to the ground. The thick tears and emotions were superior, rising above me. The day before at school when I nearly melted my esophogaus, I felt numb, besides the physical pain. I scanned the ground desperately. I managed to spot something. I leaned against it, its surface cold. A dumpster. It towered above me. I tried standing on a soggy cardboard box. Someone had drawn on it with a Sharpie and turned it into a club house. They hard and steady rhythm of the rain had soaked the box and poked holes in it. It may have just been a cardboard box, but I could just imagine the tears streaming down some kid's face. It was more than a box to them. When the bad economy came and pounded on Annabella's family, it forced them to sink down, and they were fragile. Her parents both were unemployed so they moved all the way to Colorado. They were the box, and I was the child. Everyone saw Annabella as just some student at Kiser Middle, but she was more to me. And when that child's laying in their bed weeping for their ruined club house, you know I'll be weeping for my best friend.
I stood on the box to long and my heavy tears weighed me down and I fell to the ground. I heard a loud, sick, snap. I sat up and my arm hung awkwardly. I searched my pockets for my phone, but I couldn't find it. I saw it sinking into a puddle out of the corner of my eye
Well.. this was pain. I was looking for something to hurt myself, but I didn't even have to try. Thats really all I remember because then it was black and I was dreaming about falling down a never ending hole and crying and screaming as if someone could help me. I was helpless.
Someone once told me your dreams reflect how you feel. When I first went to Kiser in the 6th grade I had dreams about schools full of aliens and cacti in the hallways. This was when I had my mama and she called me crazy. The therapist told me I was experiencing certain emotions to cause the dream like feeling lost and out of place because everything was so new and weird to me.
And then I woke up and I was crying. It wasn't crying like a girl with a broken heart but it was more a "I can't take this, somebody help me" cry. I was crying for no reason in particular- That was a lie I told someone who walked by. I was crying because I was feeling weak, and helpless. Like a child in the middle of parents arguing, hungry for a divorce. And then it was all black again. Not a deep sleep, but a faint. In my head, I saw a cyclone of yellows and blacks and stars.
I don't remember any one ever coming but I guess they did because I woke I woke up in my own bed. Cleetus was there at my feet, of course. With a nasty rawhide. Yuck.
This is a peom I wrote for a competition at my school. Tell me what you think of it, please?
__________________________________________________
Have you felt the torture of hate?
Like a poisonous cloud, it will wait,
Until you burn in the flames of fury.
Then it will creep up and incapacitate.
Alas! You will choke, and don’t try to deny your anger.
It is too late.
Hate is like grasping a red hot coal,
Intent on throwing it at another soul,
Instead it is you, yourself, who burns,
Then your own anger shall take its toll,
You’ll bring about your every mistake and failure.
You’ll be alone.
__________________________________________________
Have you felt the torture of hate?
Like a poisonous cloud, it will wait,
Until you burn in the flames of fury.
Then it will creep up and incapacitate.
Alas! You will choke, and don’t try to deny your anger.
It is too late.
Hate is like grasping a red hot coal,
Intent on throwing it at another soul,
Instead it is you, yourself, who burns,
Then your own anger shall take its toll,
You’ll bring about your every mistake and failure.
You’ll be alone.