Listening to Storytime.

My mom wakes me up. I don't budge. She drags my lifeless body to school. Still I don't acknowledge her or our surroundings. We arrive. I walk; in my frilly pink dress. I think to myself, "What am I wearing?" I make it inside. I nod to my *friends*, but smile an empty, toothy, meaningless grin to my acquaintances. It's all for show, right? All I need to do is pretend like I'm happy for a few hours and then I can go home.

I'm in class now. We practice our times tables. Bor-ing. The recess bell rings. So loud. I tell it to shut up; it's giving me a headache. Of course, he is rude and doesn't stop ringing. Everyone runs outside. Screaming. Laughing. So naive, they are. Don't they know the dangers of outside? I'm safe in here, I tell myself. If I don't go outside, it'll never happen again. Nothing can hurt me in here, I think. I prepare myself. Deep breath. The first flashback comes and goes. Not too bad this time. So I wait. I'm quiet. My teacher doesn't even come and tell me to go outside anymore. We both know it's no use.

The class comes back. Filthy. Who's the smart one now? We start science. No experiment today. I hate science. The lunch bell rings. Why are there so many bells? Bells are stupid. I grab my plastic lunch box with four best friends on the front. They look so happy. I think, why can't I have that? Then I remember. It's my fault. I push everyone away. I'm afraid that if I befriend anyone, they'll get hurt just like me. I shouldn't be afraid of my brothers like this. It's not normal; not healthy. And not just one brother, two!

Oh great. I've been called on. Now everyone's laughing at me. Because I was so out of it that I couldn't answer. When will this daydreaming end? Storytime? I HATE storytime. Everyone knows those happy endings don't really exist. Let's be realistic here. The teacher starts reading and immediately my thoughts start drifting. Oh good. They're happy thoughts this time. I can hear my teachers voice over my thoughts but I have no idea what she's reading about. Something about a cat? No..a, duck? Ugly duckling. That's me. I'm ugly. Ugly. He told me I'm not ugly. Behind locked doors. They both did. Daydreaming. No. Terrors. My parents left the house often and said that they'd both watch us; protect us. They have no idea. I'm playing outside and he comes to me. They come to me. Touch me. They take me into my room and lock the door. I wonder... What's going on? We've never done this before.. Oh. Wow. This is new. Different. Exhilarating. I don't say stop. I kinda want to do this again.. Is that wrong? I don't care.

It's been three years and this is still going on. I'm almost 11 now. Why won't it stop? I'm disgusted with myself. I just want to feel normal again. I just want to tell someone..

Eyes

It's way past my bedtime. I should be sleeping. But I'm not. Dang homework.

My middle finger hurts and has an indent from writing. Stupid homework.

My pinky is black from smearing my hard work. I hope it doesn't look sloppy.

My pen is running out of ink from writing for so long. I hope I can end soon.

My iPhone is newly updated because I became bored with my homework.

I've gotten to the point where my music is turned off because the songs finished and I'm too focused to choose new ones.

My eyes are drooped and burning from staying up too late.

Can I be done now?

GREEN with Envy.

Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll

I can't write poems.
I've tried so many times.
Maybe I can, I just don't believe that I can.
We'll try again later.
But as for now, I'm just going to wallow in self pity.

I love this poem because Carroll uses such abnormal words.
Would I ever come up with words like brillig? Or tulgey? Or fabjous? No. Never.
I'm mad because I wish I wrote the poem. I want the credit.
This sucks.

All in all, I need help.
My goal is to be able to write a decent poem. Mmk?
But by reading this, I know I won't because the confidence I had for myself just dropped about 35 points.
Hopefully I'll get back up there..
Maybe one day.

Awake

I'm awake. I swear I am. I'm always awake. Aren't I? I swear I'm awake because these dreams are so real. I swear I'm awake.

This is the part of my day that I am always looking forward to. It's not nighttime. It's daytime. And I'm sleeping. MmmMmm good. Don't wake me Ruchti; I'm dreaming.

But I'm awake. Aren't I? I can hear you all talking. So loud. So I'm awake then? How? These dreams are so real. But I can hear you. Am I awake?

Ahhh. Schools over. Going home to nap. 

~Someone stops me to talk. *Don't. I'm tired. I can't wait to go sleep.* I'm speed walking now. I'm picturing the couch by the fireplace. You know. the one that releases my favorite sleeping drug; I love it.

I'm home now. I'm laying down. I try to steady my breathing, but I can't. Why is this so hard? Wasn't I tired? My mind starts drifting but my eyes will not close. My eyes start closing..finally. My brother comes home from school.

Damn. I'm awake. 

Dream Away.

You asked to know what I dream of. I don’t want to tell you. But I will.

When I wake up, I dream of: Being on time.

During school, I dream of: Boys. 

After school, I dream of: My love for the game.

At dinner time, I dream of: FOOD.

During homework, I dream of: My bed. :) 

On cold days, I dream of: Being back on the beaches in Hawaii; reading my favorite book.

On warm days, I dream of: Being stuck in a cabin because of the bad winter storm.

Everyday, I dream of: Love.

My actual dreams during the night? Being chased by animals. Particularly bears, snakes, and rabbits.

No joke.

Courage.

Courage is being brave. That's the bottom line. I recently noticed someone who isn't afraid to be brave; no matter the circumstances.
We're on vacation and even though she's clearly aware, she doesn't seem to notice the homeless that are gross or scary or weird. It's like she's never witnessed them before. But I know she has. She's had to! Hasn't she? I mean, we live in Utah and there are homeless people. I know she doesn't give every one of them money. But here, it seems like every single one we run into she runs up to them with a dollar bill in her hand and a huge smile on her face.
It reminds me of a child's innocence. Although she isn't a young child, she has the sweet, tender heart that we all long to keep throughout our lives.
I don't think I have enough courage to spend alllll of my money on Just homeless people.
I feel bad because not all homeless people are "homeless". Some could be lying. Also, most aren't just hungry. They want drugs and other things. So it's always been hard for me to give them money because I can't trust them.
I guess I should learn from her and be more courageous, but I can't. At least someone has courage.