Scars

A brutal cut after falling off a bike
A caterpillar bulge from yanking out a stitch
A burn from the curler
A mopey looking scratch
A story for every cut,
bruise and
burn.
 Keeps this
beautiful body interesting.
Is a reminder of every life changing moment.
Scars tell a story.
They tell us who we are
they remind us of who we have become.

College.

College.
A place full of beginnings
The one time you can truly start over and begin again.
A time when you can take hold of all the little things you love about your self and make them who you really are.
You can finally escape the grasp of a controlling friend.
You can finally escape the reputation surrounding you.
You get to make choices for yourself.
If you don't want to do your homework or show up to class you can do that.
If you want to start drinking or lose yourself you can.
If you want to skip church you can.
You can do anything you want.
But the same consequences always follow.
I have seen people make choices that cause them to lose their freedom.
I have seen other people make choices that cause them to rise up and be a great strength to others.
Here at college I can make my own choices.
My parents aren't here to protect me anymore.
But they prepared me since birth for this first semester, when I would come to college, and I would make my own choices.
As I grew they taught how to make my own decisions, and they always reminded me to think of the consequences.
Now here I sit looking back on my first semester of college.
And I know who I am.
I know that I still have a lot of room to grow before I am at the next step of life.
But I can look back and be proud of the decisions I have made.
I can talk to my parents and my siblings and tell them story after exciting story.
There is nothing in my life that I want to hide or need to hide.
I am not perfect, but I am trying to be my very best.
And that is what has made all the difference in college.

Writing words.

Her breath came out stuttered,
her lips were confused at the  phrase.
Her brain knew the words were right
But nothing came out the same.
Her mouth never got the words right
But her hand on the page
Took the words right out of her mouth
Decorating them to fit her ideas and mold her

Ice breaking Blue Eyes.

Sadly stumbling down the street
He knows what he’s been missing
His eyes droop from many tearful nights
The permanent creases of a frown
Sit loosely on his face
Hours of no return
He hangs his head low
His heart is torn
His lover won’t show
When suddenly a woman
Turns haughtily around the corner
Her hips sway selfishly
She teases with a knowing smile
A glance could be caught in her ice breaking blue eyes
He walks cautiously towards her
Determined and decided
Anger and greed pull it from his jacket
Quick black movement sparks fear in her heart
he clumsily grips it in his hands
takes a breath before aiming
then surely his silent shot is taken.
Stunned, she has no response
He quickly walks away
a chance with her now forever gone
no evidence of lovers left
but secretly he kept
that single moment on the street
captured by his camera
it sits contently on his wall.

Sweets.

The soft sweet taste lingers even after the small round candy is gone
Seconds before it lay gladly on your tongue
Now long gone you feel as though you are missing something important
Once the sweet candy leaves her mouth
Something so small and almost meaningless
Strangely starts to becomes a desperate need
Smaller than your fingernail it sits on your palm
A great and delectable treat.

Photo by ms.Tea

Childhood.

Sarcastically speaking
A large grown man
Tells the story of his small boy life
Laughter rings through out the halls
The joyful spirit shouts
A battle ax
A car full of road rage
A fishing child
And a broken garbage can
Lucky to have a fabulous childhood

The Difference

    I constantly watched the clock counting down every minute until it was time to go to recess. Every moment pushed me closer to a different world full of a once hushed and quiet class. The girls who failed in class were suddenly at the top of the pyramid and in charge of those around them; while the girls who had grades of a scholar were almost instantly at the bottom of the food chain. I was the girl at the bottom of the food chain, scraping the good off of the “popular” girl’s shoes. Back then I didn’t realize how much better off I was compared to them and I decided to walk down to their level.  My story begins when recess started as I sat on the monkey bars, one chilly day. Sitting on the monkey bars was not my usual recess activity but today I was sick of being the invisible girl no one saw hiding in the slide, wishing for friends I thought I would never have. Instead I had come out of hiding today and sat higher than the rest of the kids on the playground. I liked it up there because I could see everyone despite where they played their games. Behind me the crazy boys played soccer, to my right the softball and baseball players made-do playing kickball, to my left the goody two shoes swung on the swings, beneath me were the weird kids who didn’t have friends. Subconsciously the whereabouts of all the different people were obvious but my focus was elsewhere. Right in front of me the jock boys and pretty girls played revenge on the basketball court. I watched wishing I wasn’t so shy. Wishing I was more pretty. Wishing I had friends. Wishing people cared enough to talk to me. Wishing my only friend hadn’t become one of those girls shooting basketballs. Wishing I knew what I had done wrong.
    That day as I longed to change what “wasn’t good enough” about myself, I made a promise. A promise that I was going to become one of them one day. I was going to become cool; I was going to get at least a little bit of attention. At that moment the strong determination to change myself to someone who I thought was better than who I already was, began a change that would distort my entire life.
    The next day as I waited for lunch, I hardly paid any attention to the teacher. I was trying to gather every ounce of courage I had, so that I would be brave enough to sit by them during lunch. As the bell rang my stomach dropped but I knew what I had to do. I was higher in line than the rest of the girls I looked up to and got my lunch first. I took a steadying breath and sat down on the long table, that according to some unwritten rule, was their territory. Shyly I ate my lunch hoping they wouldn’t be angry for the intrusion. Each girl sat down and took no notice. It seemed like they didn’t mind me sitting there. When they threw their lunches away I followed them silently like a shadow. I stood around and watched as they played revenge again. Watching as they would laugh and cheer when they would out shoot a boy and shout with flirtatious anger when one of the cute boys shot them out. The first day seemed to go well, as in they hadn’t torn me apart and left my bones on the side of the road. I continued this shadowing craze every lunch, and it seemed that they began to accept my presence, it was almost as if they didn’t even mind it. I started to feel like one of the popular girls.
    Being in their presence changed how I did everything. They slowly tore apart what I looked like and I began to mold myself to their idea of “beautiful”. I started to straighten my hair, I bought different clothes, I wore more make-up, and I gossiped about the other girls. When I went to hang out with boys on the weekends I lied to my parents about who was there. When the few friends I once had talked to me, I acted astonished at their bravery to approach someone as high up as I thought I was. If only I had realized sooner that I was rude and that true friendship isn’t someone who tells you how to look, who ignores you when you aren’t pretty enough, and who is quickly angered by ridiculous rumors. 
I followed these girls and hid who I really was for years. I didn’t find out I actually had a personal opinion until early senior year. It’s all thanks to a boy named Scott. He was my very best friend, the only person to like me, not for what I looked like, but for who I was. Of course how I looked must have been what originally sprouted his interest, but to my delight, he only pursued when he noticed that I had a different personality than the others.

He saw me for the unique person I was, but I didn’t realize that until I broke up with my best friend. On the day our relationship ended, I found for the first time I had no one to tell me that I looked bad or good. At first I didn’t know how to deal with it, but in time I realized I could finally choose for myself.

Suddenly the influence of the media and a cultural idea of perfection didn’t matter to me. What I wanted to do or wear was much more enjoyable than what my friends liked or what my boyfriend liked. I realized that being weird and a little different was very fun. I also found the more I acted like myself the more people wanted to be around me and become my friend. For the first time I didn’t feel shy because I no longer cared what people thought of my words. These changes made me feel more beautiful than I had ever felt before. Whenever I heard anything as simple as, “I like your shoes!” to “Wow, you look beautiful today!” a smile beamed from my face, because for once they were complimenting the way I projected my personality.

I found who I am, and discovered how much I like the person that lives inside of this unique, little body. This realization made me bold enough to stick it to the society that had sculpted me for so long, I stopped wearing makeup. To most people that may seem small and ridiculous, and they might no even notice, or they just don’t think anything of my refusal to paint my face. But In my perspective it is a symbol of being myself, showing my face completely natural, and being proud of every freckle and the pale color of my eyelids.

If you are nearly done reading this and you still sit there and wonder what in the world was the point of this story about a shy little girl turned popular and then weird. Well the message I hope to share is an appreciation for who you are. I spent most of my life wishing to be someone I am not. Most girls I know are obsessed with how they wished they look, they see every single spot they think is wrong on their faces and instantly look over all the good that is there waiting to be acknowledged. They think that their personalities are too crazy, not funny enough, too weird, and too different. This is ridiculous! Why not take the time to find something about yourself that YOU like, embrace who you are and share your personality with the world! People will appreciate someone who has finally left the cloned population created by the media; a little originality is fun and interesting.

Mocha Brownies

It all begins when you look at the rich, mahogany colored, thin and smooth surface of the miraculous brownie. The color alone invites thoughts of eating into your mind, the smooth surface infuses an interesting curiosity. A precise square is formed as the knife sculpts and leaves a slightly moistened wake. The perfect shape is professional and appetizing. The cut releases an aroma, full of warm coffee beans and sweetened cocoa, a homely smell that brings people floating through the door, hoping for just a crumb.

As the Betty Crocker Mocha-Brownie is placed before you, you notice the colorful beads of chocolate sprinkled on top, immediately recognized as mini M&Ms. A wonderful, new idea for the common box mix brownie. My friend Jared smiles and graciously invites you to enjoy his treat.

    A Salivating mouth, waits impatiently to experience the flood of taste soon to come. Once a piece of brownie has taken place on the fork, it is guided to the mouth. As the scrumptious piece melts on the tongue a homely, comforting sensation warms the soul. A brownie that is perfectly moistened and fluffy, pleasing the taste buds with a desirable balance of mocha and chocolate.

Suddenly the crunch of the M&Ms adds a new dimension. The addition creates a relationship like that between a firm, hearty man and a calm, trustworthy woman. The pair unseperable, once they have found a comfortable place together.

After the short time it takes to create this remarkable brownie, a smile is found along with the feeling of accomplishment, despite the little nutritional value it holds. Surprisingly this fulfilling brownie was made from a box mix, although one might never be able to guess this single shortcoming because of the rich, fresh flavor. I would definitely recommend this delectable brownie to any who wish for a soothing, homely dessert.

It was tasted professional despite the informal setting of a small college apartment. This was a charming atmosphere that comfortably seated at least ten people with the stadium seating couches. The chef and waiters were kind and friendly, warmly inviting us back countless times for other delicacies. It was a remarkably cheap dessert, not even a penny was wanted in trade, rather a tip paid in kindness and a promise for cookies another day. The brownie was well worth the price. If you get the chance, visit my friend Jared to share this journey in eating his delicious Betty Crocker Mocha Brownies, with mini M&Ms.

Don't open the door

Dear Arthur Kipps,

When you are in a house that is silent, except a heart throbbing, mysterious pounding in the upstairs nursery, your first instinct might be to find what is making the noise. You might even feel as Edgar Allan Poe elucidates, “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.” Were you possibly dreaming to see your long dead wife? I must beg you to come out of that wishful moment and look at the facts in front of you. There is that incredulous pounding coming from a room formerly thought to be empty in an old house. A house thought unoccupied just moments before.  A house left to be sold by an estranged mother who angrily committed suicide. After reviewing the former I would most definitely advise you not to open that door.

You have been in this bleak little town long enough to see people die, to glimpse a dark soulless ghost and to be at least slightly knowledgeable about the crazed mentally lost Jennet Humfrye who once lived there.

You should have been told enough to know that Ms. Humfrye is a mother who desperately fought for a child she didn’t have the mental stability to care for. If her child had stayed he could have possibly by emotionally wrecked and physically scarred in her care. The poor sweet innocent child was killed in the depths of a marshland. This child’s caregiver had been tricked into a visit like a rat eating craved cheese from a trap. This distraught mother couldn’t handle what had happened to her beautiful small boy. Dealing with the disparing loss led her to think of only one option; she hanged herself.

This relieving event caused the village to hope that this vicious woman would finally be gone but their desperate plea was shattered by a line of mysterious deaths. Village children were dying in simple painful ways and at every heartbreaking death a sudden glimpse of the heartless vengeful woman.

Shame on you if you don’t believe in ghosts, Ghosts roam the earth right next to the living. “The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?” according to Mr. Poe.

Mr. Kipp, how could you be so mindless to open the door to the murderous queen. This wench thrives on the blood of children and you do in fact have precious son to protect. Your son is the only living person left to carry on your late wife’s heir. Holding him in mind at the very least should keep you from opening that door despite the curiosity coursing through your veins. When the door to death is shut, it is most important for that door to stay shut. Opening the door to the wicked Pandora’s Box is not the option to choose.

If  you continue to feel the urge to go through that door that holds a curse to haunt generations for eternity, you surely have an incredibly sluggishly selfish mind. I am clearly explaining shortly and simply why opening the door would be an idea that is as friendly and comforting as an atomic bomb. Here I sit writing this letter even though a wiser writer once said, “Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality,” Maybe these next words will be enough to impress your mind.

After selling your soul to devilish Jennet, leaving your needy hands to shake and perspire, causing your mind to become torn hopeless, letting fill with bizarre, threatening voices causing your morals and dreams to be ripped apart you will see.

I can only hope that after realizing you have left your son to a gruesome and heart wrenching fate. After seeing him die with a blank look rather than a hopeful tear stained face. You will finally realize that block of wood acting as a simple sturdy door, is the only thing keeping you from this murderous tormenting woman with a flagitious mind.

Freedom.

The wind blows against her face, an ecsatic laugh bursts from her lips. Amazingly low below, the hard sturdy ground seems like only a dream. The power of the push towards the sky and the fright of the chance that gravity will wins takes presence in her heart. Her heart pounds uncontrollably, fear poisoning her veins for a slight moment but the feeling of freedom conquers the fright. Happily she finally finds her place. The soaring blows a smile onto her face. The beam of happiness radiates to the world before. She plans to never come down and soars along the clouds away from all the sadness she once knew, never to be bothered again. But to live on in true glory.

Dragons.

Her heart beats quickly, moisture clings to her face, her breath is heavy. Her eyes scramble looking for safety before the glossy zoning takes over. She knows the most feared is on its way. Her hands shake even as her legs sprint hopelessly. What happens when it comes? No one knows exactly for the monster takes all that come looking leaving no story to tell by lips, but told instead by gruesome ends. She knows every moment counts in this fateful chase. Her hopes for Glory and Fame are pathetically put to an end.

The End.

Finally I have something to write about. My inspiration has come from Erin and her lovely blog. 

I wonder if after I write this you will read it, 

It used to begin with once upon a time.

Yet I have a feeling that will never happen again. 

I see you every day, whether you notice or not. 

I have already let go of what we used to be, 

but I am still there holding you up 

and supporting you in doing what's right, 

that for sure will never change, 

and though I may seem more than hurt,

you are always forgiven, 

in reality it is me who needs forgiving.

It broke my heart to tear that fairy tale apart.

I tried my best to do it the right way 

But that was still my first time

and now I know how bad I must have hurt you 

because I am finally being hurt myself. 

Half of that is the way you treat me, 

like I am the only person who makes you miserable. 

Like being around me is the most dreadful part of your day. 

I am sorry that you feel that way.

Though you probably think I have it all wrong. 

I know I asked for ridiculous things, 

and over stepped my boundaries, 

but I am still trying to be your friend, just your friend. 

It's simply now I am not trying so hard. 

Why should I try that hard when I am sick of torturing myself? 

Torture from bringing myself back to those times when I had my own fairytale. 

Torture because I felt so bad for hurting you,

for leaving at what seemed the most important time to stay. 

Tortured, tortured, tortured for doing what was right,

for doing what I knew had to be done. 

I am sick of torturing myself for that. 

I know you never asked me to torture myself, 

that it was my own unconscious decision. 

but to stop the torture I might seem a little cold

a little less sorry,

a little more sarcastic

a little more rude.

I am sorry if you end up reading these too honest words. 

Soon I can finally let go completely, 

I just have to get away. 

I can't right now because everyday you are shoved in my face. 

Making me question myself.

I know that we will never be like that again. 

But you were my first love, 

my first boyfriend, 

my first kiss, 

the first hand I held, 

and the first true best friend.

how am I supposed to stop the torturing when you are falling in love again? 

When you are dating much more often than I?

When I haven't been on a date since you were the one asking. 

When I can't take any boy seriously?

So here are my feelings, 

spilling out on this poor blog. 

In almost poetic harmony, 

or terrifying hurtful words. 

now I can finally search for my Happily Ever After.

picture perfect.

She walks down the street almost clumsily Not nervous like other girls might be Her hips sway and her head is tilted, constantly wondering Her shiny smooth hair swings across her back her happy smile a permanent feature on her face she's Everything a simply gullible girl might be. Then you meet her ice breaking blue eyes with a realization she might just manipulate this is a girl that only a man might admire. a girl who seems absent minded enough to never understand delicate enough to always need a friend but curious enough to always let go along the same street a sad man approaches frowns permanent creases on his face his eyes seem droopy from all the tears cried his head falls up for a mere moment and he sees the beautiful deceitful girl with ice breaking blue eyes and a clumsy hip swaying walk with a happy laughter curling out anger flashes through his hands he hides before she sees his sad careful eyes hiding no deceit he pulls it from his jacket and lifts it to the front he takes a careful aim the shot is surely taken though a blast is never heard his evidence is never found the flash gave none away his anger is deflated her happiness not taken but captured is that second sitting forever on his wall a special picture perfect moment. photo by: By phlubdr

Fiery Anger

Peaceful anger rages inside
The poor little girl with so much to hide.
She knows too much
the hurt starts to show.
So she pulls on a cover
hoping others won't know.

a few breaths don't cool
Her sweet fire deep inside
it soars high towards her heart
A Poison spreading swiftly

The heat of her heart
burns her brain to a crisp
the next man to come
may soon fall to her flame
So the poison fire of anger
rages onward for fame

a nervous breakdown waiting to happen
the tears hopeful pooling
to extinguish the hate
but nothing can stop this feeling
Her anger causing the disaster.

Stormy.

The confusion clouded her every thought like a frost covers a window. Her warmed and happy heart shrunk into a falling cold snowflake. The Hail fell from her mouth as she screamed at her closest companions. Her anger was like nothing anyone has ever heard before. Upset about her behavior she searched through her brain for the little kink and problem, but was never able to find that tiny glitch. Everything around her would normally have made her extremely happy and content, yet every thought now attacked her guarded heart and every noise was lightning rocking her head unsteadily. Everyday the stormy clouds released their wells of wet happiness and soon her whole person was drained of feeling good or bad, happy or sad, loved or hated.

By powazny

Searching.

The beautiful words flowed through her lips and fell gently down to the floor like the first snow fall of winter. Every word meant the world to her but no one was there to catch the precious script as it traveled across her lips. No one was there to feel her deep cuts and bruised pain, and no one was there to share the vibrant rays of happiness. Every day she stepped through the doors in hopes of something new, or someone to join her on her journey, a journey of screaming, helpless words. Her words had no home like a lost bird flying after the flock. She was alone and isolated even as she was in the midst of millions of people walking quickly around. No eye contact, no hope of being found in her loss of voice because she accidentally hid too deep to be found. No hands reach out to pull her from the solitary life of the hopeless poor girl. She hopes someone will search hard enough but everyone only looks half way, waiting for her to walk the other half.

photo By - yt - Yusuke Tsutsui

Twilight: The Real Story

I know you have all heard the preciously romantic story of Edward and Bella. The beautiful, sparkling vampire and the willing-to-defy-all-odds,lovesick girl and how they fell in love. A desperate love grown over trials of almost deaths which is soon shattered over Edward running away and Jacob, friendly wolf-boy, who wants nothing other than to be with his best friend Bella forever. He is by her side and hopeful that she will one day
go of Edward, but then Edward comes back and she is completely sucked into his vampire way of life all over again. Well, what if I know what really happened between love struck Bella, vampire Edward and werewolf Jacob? In the real story the gorgeous Bella is the only person who sticks out to Edward. After months of stalking Bella, following her wherever she goes and watching her as she sleeps. She finds out, she is beyond creeped out, yet likes it all the same. Quickly, despite her hopeless efforts, she falls madly in love with him and begins to hold on to his old coat tails for the ride of her life. Soon Edward discovers that although Bella is very beautiful, he is annoyed by her desperate yearnings for his love and unyielding desire for immortality. He is too kind to push away this poor girl who loves him ever so much, knowing that she would be completely crushed and would probably fall into a suicidal depression. He stays with her for months and months playing up his love for her. He finally tires of this game and realizes that with his amazing vampire sparkling powers, he deserves a beautiful supernatural creature as powerful as he. He is finally convinced to rid himself of Bella and leaves off into the dust with out a single trace of him to be found. Desperate for the attention Edward had given her, Bella decides to go to the only place in her neighborhood she had not yet gone. Where the boys were new and didn’t know about her need for affection, immortality and stalking boys. Of all the boys, she sees one that especially stands out, probably because of his unnaturally long hair and his ripped biceps and six-pack abs fighting to get out of his shirt. She catches this boy, Jacob quickly and carefully, not wanting to scare him away by her clingy, needy ego. She drew him in very closely and then let her true, desperate ways take over. After only months he wanted to be done with the crazy girl he thought might be his one true love. Edward the vegan vampire comes back to Seattle to see his sparkly vampire family. He had found out from his sister that Bella had found a new boy that had made her forget all about him. But to Edward’s surprise, as soon as Bella hears of his return, she leaves Jacob and goes straight for Edward. Upset about this he goes to talk to the boy who must have loved Bella, creepy ways and all. Edward visits Jacob’s house only to find when the door opens that Jacob is his mortal enemy, the Werewolf, and much more attractive than he had remembered. Jacob makes no hesitation to clear things up about Bella, and to share how good looking he thought Edward was. To get rid of the Bella girl, they decided they had only one option to allow Bella to be savagly killed by a crazed killer vampire named Victoria and then to finally give in to their unspoken attraction for one another. They are relieved to find someone who is more than capable to take care of themselves and who has a chiseled body is a mirror image of their own. They happily became boyfriends and were glad that the needy Bella was out of the picture.

The magic works by the love of Bella’s own heart. She is willing to go far past the normal extent of clingy for any boy. Also Vampires are created by the drinking of blood from a cow with mad cow disease, a bird with the bird flu, or a pig with swine flu. To become a Werewolf you have to be manly, constantly want your shirt off, have a problem with a lot of hair growing every where, but it is a genetic condition. For the soundtrack we will use the Mario theme for the star power, Edward likes to run really fast and he is pretty much invincible. Jacob’s theme song will be Sexy and I know it, i mean really who doesn’t think he is sexy? Even Edward realizes that! Bella’s theme will be Person of Interest by Rebecca Black. Creepy songs go with creepy people.

Alice (Edward’s sister, Ashley Greene) Charlie (Bella’s Confused and Apologetic Father, any Hobo off the street) Edward (the Vegan Sparkly almost Hippie Vampire, Cedric Diggory) Jacob (the Super Stupid Male Model who can be compared with Hansel and Zoolander, Taylor Lautner) and Bella (the half stoned, hyperventilating girl, Kristen Stewart)

Getting out.

The whole world started to fall apart around her. Every tiny word had the affect of two worlds colliding. How was she supposed to control her emotions? She knew what she stood for but couldn't find where her knowledge applied in life. Every watered down thought pooled into an unmanageable river that eroded her joy into a deep unrepairable canyon.
Nothing made sense and it seemed as if her every friend had turned away. She couldn't let herself stay in this pit of sorrow, she had to find a way out. She started to realize that when the world told her that the only way to climb out was dig to herself a little deeper, that didn't help at all. Her only hero now was the sure footing on the rock. She made choices for her own well being instead of choices made to be the perfection she was told to be. Finally she was in the open air. Released from the pit, she started to live her life. She built her house on Rock to withstand the rains ahead and forever she lived with all the happiness whether rain or shine.