Status Update

So, I don't know if I do have some random readers that happen to read when I randomly post at extremely random times, but if so, I would love to get random comments on my writing or these type of post. Basically, I've been super busy (as usual), and I typically write the things I post on here within like 5 seconds of when I write them. If you notice, in the previous sentence, I used the word "like" almost as if I was dictating to the computer (but I'm not, apparently I type like I talk). Anyhow, I don't know if any of you have seen the Disney movie "Frozen", but it is the best movie ever. None of this really relates to writing (other than the parts that do). I was listening to this poetry slam, it was pretty awesome. (Abrupt subject change). I'm in Drivers Ed. Show of hands for all of you who care. (Is that the friendly chirp of crickets I hear?) Oh there are so many of you. Anyways, I just felt the need to give you a status update, and now that I have.
GOODBYE!

Love: Expressed Through Open Palms, Closed Fist, and Tight Lips

Am I worse?
Do I hit harder, if not literally, figuratively?
Do the imprints last longer?
Do I say sorry?
Am I like him?
Am I worse

I don't want to be like that.
I can't be like that.
I am nice.
I am kind,
But my hand hit her skin.
Am I worse?

What kind of mark did I leave?
I see your face frozen in shock,
In pain,
In front of me.
Can I be becoming this monster?
Can I feel this rage boiling inside of me for no reason?
Can I feel this hatred boiling inside of me,
Exactly where love should be?
Will I be an empty chasm, like him?
Will I be worse?
Am I worse?

I don't want to be like that.
I love you.
Open palmed,
I know it didn't sting your flesh,
But I can't see your heart.
I can't see the heart that I already know is bruised, broken, and cut.
Did I make it worse?
Please tell me that you didn't see him when you looked at me,
Tight lipped,
Angry Eyes,
Open palm.

I know what it looked like,
The monster inside.
I've seen it for too long.
Tight lipped,
Angry Eyes,
Closed Fist.
Another gash sliced through your heart.
Please tell me this one wasn't deeper.
Please tell me this one wasn't worse.
Please tell me this one wasn't the worst you've ever felt.
Please tell me you'll forgive me.

I promise I'll never do it again.

Tight lipped,
Angry Eyes,
Open palmed,
Closed fist.
We are the same,
Aren't we?

Truth in Lies post #1

I just wanted to give you your daily dose of encouragement by giving you a little story about me. Me, myself, and I. I am a very weird, strange person and I don’t deny that, but I am also very insecure, and I can’t deny that. For me, the hardest thing in the world is accepting myself and my flaws. I want everything to be perfect, so I guess that makes me a perfectionist. I have many things I do not like about myself, and that makes me feel inferior and uncomfortable and extremely jealous of those who have (or seem to have) absolutely no problems with themselves, and I find it utterly incredible that while I’m sitting here dwelling on everything I want to be and sitting on that latest idea that pops into my head and not wanting to share it because I’m afraid, and I feel, for some reason, writing makes me less afraid of what I am and what I will become if I fail. I know that if I fail on this particular blog there will be no particular embarrassment, or really any consequence at all, but in real life I am afraid to even shout out something that I know is right. Why is that? I have absolutely no idea other than the several ideas that I have that I am too afraid to share. Now, I wish that things were different and I wish I could say that I didn’t want to put everyone else’s feelings in front of mine, but that is not true. I want everyone to be happy, but somewhere in there I lost the happiness that was intended for myself and maybe it was the way I was raised, but that is me, and when I’m not putting my happiness last and everyone else’s first, I happen to be making them miserable by hitting them where it hurts, and I do it on purpose when I’m hurt and I hate that about me, but I’m not saying I’m all negative, and I know, right know this doesn’t sound very encouraging, but trust me it is because I know one day I will break that shell and (hopefully) I will get a step closer by writing this and basically exposing myself as I have before on this blog whether or not you realize it, but this writing is me, and when I say the crimson stains are leaking from her heart to the ground, I’m secretly talking about me, and I’m slowly telling my story, and breaking open that fear to SPEAK. Now, that may all be swell and dandy, but what does it mean for you. Well, I by all accounts am completely crazy, BUT I say to all of you, right now that is better to be completely crazy and comfortable than shy and hidden away, especially in your writing. That purple-red dawn that creeps into the sky I’ve seen and I want you to see it and feel it as your reading my story, and as I SPEAK because it is beautiful if you give it a little bit of time, and I will finally be heard.

I am not a killer.

I am a person.

I am not a sociopath.

I am like you.

Please don’t judge me based on my story.

This is me.

Raising Awareness

This is for one of my close friends who is now getting out of a bad situation. This tale is a little bit late for domestic violence awareness month, which is in October, but better late than never. Thanks fort taking the time to read this!

Here you go:

Baggage. I can handle it. You will always be my friend. Do you understand that? I am your friend unconditionally. I can’t call myself a friend and say stop because you’ve got a secret.

I have a few myself.

I will stand by you, and if you need a shoulder to cry on I’m here.

I’m sorry that I didn’t know.

I will never blame you for not telling me.

That smile of yours is enchanting, can you really cover it so easily?

Of course, so can I.

Do you remember the first time we met?

Of course you do. You’re the one who reminded me.

I said some things that I never meant it, but I never thought we’d be this close. You and your beautiful blue eyes that always escape me. You and your red hat. You and your blonde hair. You will always be beautiful to me.

I never knew.

But let me tell you a secret: I’ve seen it too, on the wall, with those fist. I’m so proud of you for being brave.

You are braver than I could ever be. I didn’t know it had gotten this bad.

I know you’re away now, and I know you’ve still got that smile, but I know what’s underneath it, and even if I’ve never seen it on you before; I’ve seen it on me.

I imagined someday I’d be telling this story, my story, to a lover who’d never understand, not a friend who had it worse than me.

I will always be there for you.

I am part of your team. Don’t give up while I’m here.

I don’t know if you’ve shed tears. I’ll imagine you have. I know I did. I know I think about it every day, and I know it’s going to follow me.

When I was little I used to sing a little song about them getting in another fight. That was commonplace in my home, and I’ve heard things that no child should ever hear. I know you share that with me, and if it’s bad on me, I know it’s worse on you, and I guess that’s why I felt the need to say this: I will be here forever. I will never hurt you as long as you promise to do the same.

I don’t want a wedding. I don’t want a marriage, and I think what I’ve seen is part of that. Maybe you think the same. I know you’ve seen the pain. There is nothing worse in the world than that pain.

It’s the kind of pain that makes you kind of wish that it happened to you. Maybe you could take it better. I can stand up for myself, she can’t. I did it, and I’ll imagine you did too. They’re so much bigger, but mine stopped when faced with me. Did yours?

Mine showed no remorse. Even now.

I never want that. Ever.

I know you don’t either.

Let me stay by your side. You can cry, and I won’t say a word. I don’t care who is trying to hurt you, let me support you. Even today, I know these are words I can probably never say to your face, but if by any chance you see this, and you know it’s me. Know I’ll always be by your side.

I will be your friend unconditionally, and forever. Thank you for being brave. Thank you for putting that smile upon your face. Thank you for being you.

Love,
Me

 

Poem #1: Greek Mythology Anyone?

So, I wrote a poem, but I must say that this story is not mine. The actual story is "copyrighted" by ancient Greeks. Anyhow, my poem is based on the story of Clytmenstra who killed her husband with no remorse. While I know she did have some reasonable reasons for killing her husband, she still should've felt a little twinge of emotion for the man she once loved. So, this is my take on the story:

Clytmenstra
Wicked Queen,
Wicked Queen you are.
Soaked in Scarlett,
Bathed in Crimson,
A smile upon your face.
He did me wrong you claim.
A life for a life you say.

You closed those castle doors of yours,
Mind set to do the deed.
We never thought,
We never thought,
You'd come into the open air.

Soaked in Scarlett,
Bathed in Crimson,
With a smile upon your face.
Your head held high,
Lover in hand,
As the last lay forever silent and hidden away.

Your son must now do the wretched deed,
Freshly ripped away from your bosom.
He must now give heed,
Spearing the breasts his head once rest upon with his own weapon.
Blood thirst!
Oh blood thirst!
The cause of all terror.
Wicked Queen,
Yes, a Wicked Queen you were.

G.R.A.Y. Part 4

I felt the need to put an introduction here because well, I didn't want to just  throw you back into the story, and I did give an introduction for the other three, so...

Here you go:

            “Do you hear that?” They travelled as a pact, sensing the movement together.

            “One of the ten are out?”        

            “That’s why they sent us up." 

            They communicated through facial expressions. They could not run the risk of the ten hearing more than needed. They had learned long ago that only one sound should be heard: their feet as they pounded the ground. They always started in a walk and kept pace with their prey's footsteps.

                                                             -        -        -       -

I made sure to convey nothing on my face. It was my first night serving with them, I would be feared as I always desired. I had trained for this, and I would continue to train to become as near as the elders as possible. The older ones in the pact always travelled near the front. I was in the back, no one really acknowledged our presence. We were there to observe. I had seen them act on the camera, but never in person before. I knew the others would be watching, envious of class 14’s presence among the rest of their footsteps.

I was proud. If we passed this week’s training, we could become official members, but only five would be chosen this year, less than the past. They are more efficient with less. If I did not join them, I would forever be only spare change, used only when they were in need of others to join. I proudly wore my gray coating over my skin and the black pieces of plastic I had placed into my eyes. I am one of them.

They had given us the coating and plastic to look like them. It was only temporary, but they, the true members, had the features installed into them. Their skin was naturally a much darker grey then the rest of us, and it was permanent. They would always be a Gray. Their eyes were almost complete black, piercing, awe-inspiring.

I had been trained to admire them, perhaps I was ignorant, but it didn’t matter because I was on the chase. I could be a hero.

G.R.A.Y Part 3

I'm actually trying to edit this a little bit as I post this because as I read I am finding certain parts that I don't like along with many an error, but I figured since I wasn't doing anything else, I should put up the next portion.

Chapter 1

I don’t know how bad it has gotten with the attacks. I can't really help, but I can tell you the truth. I can tell you my story.

-Love

Daddy

Daddy, daddy, why do you have to be so mean?
 
The road was cold, sprinkled with evergreen trees, and the cars were scarce. The evening sky was a winter purple, a perfect night for snow. Two hours ago, my biggest concern had been whether or not I would be able to sleep in tomorrow morning. Now, it's whether or not I’ll see their trademark red and blue shimmering behind us.
 
I can hear the banging in the trunk.
 
Daddy, I don’t want them to take you away.
 
I hold my breath like the person in the trunk, motionless, breathless. I wait until my vision gets blurry, then my mouth flies open, and I’m sucking in as much air as I can.
 
He's staring ahead. I know he won't dare look me in the eye. It doesn’t matter anyways, even if he tried, I wouldn’t be able to look into his. The windows are clean and clear, the way she always leaves them.
 
His eyes are an icy blue, the same as mine. I feel pressure on my chest.
 
He’s cold and distant because he has to be.
 
He told me to get into the car. I heard the screaming, I knew what had happened, this time it had gone too far. I pointed my own blue eyes at the wooden floor that I already knew I’d never see again. I can’t lie and say that I never knew that one day, this day would come.
 
Daddy, daddy, you make it so hard.
I want to love you. I really do, but please, please don't just give me those same excuses.
 
I glance out the rearview mirror, not a car behind us. We’re home free.
 
I look at the back of his head, his bushy black and grey hair, and I close my eyes.
 
Dear Daddy,
I never wanted to wish this on you, understand that, even the times I did, I never wanted this. I can't help but watch those evergreen trees. I am one of them, standing tall until I am taken down. You have made me strong, but I fear I am breaking.
 
I sit on the cold leather, hands tucked between my jeans and the seat. I take a quick look at him pulling my trembling hands into my lap. My face feels hot, although the car is cold. I slide my fingers over the smooth surface hidden in my palms. The gift you gave me not long ago. Can I take charge?
 
I tap the receiver 3 times.
 
I love you.
 
I turn my head towards the window, glancing at the rearview mirror, tears sliding down my cheeks. I know you can hear my breath getting sharper, shorter.
 
Daddy, I’m sorry.
 
This is the first time that I’ve got to sit in the passenger seat. Years of begging, and it’s now. I look down at my feet, my toes are just skimming the black plastic mat on the ground.
 
Someday I’ll be as tall as him. Feet planted on the ground, having to push my chair back because I’m so tall.
 
Daddy, I don’t want to be like you.
 
Or maybe I’ll be this petite little girl forever.
 
Red and blue flashing down the street.
 
Maybe I’ll be just like mommy.
 
Daddy, why?
 
“Daddy?” I whisper, “You know you have to pull over.” I can hear the tears in my voice. I can feel his eyes on me, taking me in one last time. His breaths are heavy as he pulls to the side of the road. Two officers come, one to his side, and one to mine. They wait until he’s out of the car to get me out.
 
“You’re a brave girl, you know that?” The officer says offering me his hand. My legs are numb. I bury my wet face into him, he hoists me up, although I’m much too big to carry. I know my Daddy will watch me with his icy blue eyes, but I won’t look. This will have to be our last goodbye.
 
Dear Daddy,
You shouldn't have done that, not to mommy.
 
Goodbye Daddy.

G.R.A.Y Part 2

So, basically I'm just going to continue from where I left off. Thank you Carol Balawyder for taking the time to look at my blog!
Sidenote: I will try to stop where I originally put page breaks into the story.

Let me tell you a secret...

What I really want to become is an author. That has always been my aspiration, and maybe I have seconds to keep your attention because you're a busy person that doesn't have time to read yet another random blog, but I want you to do one thing for me: keep reading.

I am a girl with a dream. I don't want to sound to sappy or anything, but I know we each have our own individual goals, and writing is mine. I want to be known. I want to find a publisher, and I really don't care about fame so much as I care about being heard.

I want someone, someday to look at something I wrote and say, "I want to be write something like this someday." Rather than I want to be just like her.

I am someone who cares about life along with a lot of other things. I'm someone who doesn't have the best grammar in the world, but I am someone with passion, and if you've made it this far through this, I'd like to say, thank you. Thank you for supporting a girl with a dream, and giving me a chance even if it is this small insignificant part of your day, and if I can ask of you one more thing; I'd ask if you could take a little more time and read some of my work and just tell me what you think. That's all I ask.