Hell

  My Hell is having so much to write but not getting it out in time. This screws me over. I cant write them down before they burn in this Hell. The ashes of  unwritten stories, poems, arguments, posts, and ideas surround my feet. My skin black with soot. I am now unrecognizable. The people that knew me see me through a different looking glass. This looking glass is dirty itself and miss shapes the already deformed. Hell is the opinions I have of myself. Hell is that fact that I can leave when I want yet never do. Seeing the way out daily makes me have a need to leave. But I know this is where the refining fires of Hell dwell. My deepest works come from here. This pit where eyes only adjust when there is fuel for fire.

  I do get gifts from above; fire proof paper, moments of pure clarity, a shower of hope so people can see me again. At these times I want to leave. But it is seems too easy. As if Hell has forgotten me for awhile. I then realize that I am not steering my ship that was going towards freedom. It is a heat wave from Hell that shoves me back, almost capsizing me, into the unknown. Hell is the fact that I am in a ship when there is a bridge. A bridge that goes over the seas of the unknown and to the way out. I stopped trying to get out of Hell and not of the reason you think.

I got out and got bored of heaven and came back to Hell.

The Decoy

I just wanted to be near the top.

Talent Killers

I am waiting for someone to tell me I write like shit.

Once they do I will be able to stop writing. I could give up on writing like I have on other things. Yet now I only want to stop something if a person that I know, who knows what they are talking about, tells me I am bad. Normally the person to get me to stop doing something is myself. I went to an intervention with another kid called FeathersOnFish(myself). There we talked a lot, laughed a little, cried till the salty tears made our cheeks raw, and thought up some good ways to change.

I thought up this...
                                "People's own opinions kill their talents."   

I know that this is truth because I have so many friends that  tell me that they aren't good at something so they have stopped. Did somebody tell you that you are bad at it? If so, do you trust their opinion? If you trust them, then you have all the right to stop what you are doing. 

If it is just you that has a horrible opinion of yourself then you have no right to stop. I want you to be like my tone deaf little brother. No matter how many times my family tells that boy that he cannot sing he sings anyway. 

I am tired of talent wasters telling me that they wish they could do it like someone else. Those people that you are wishing to be like think highly of themselves. If you want to be a better you, have a great self image. Try enjoying what you are wishing to be better at. 

If you tell me I write like shit I have no reason to believe you because I don't know you.

I Am All About Deception

I with hold information and give information that conflicts the with held information. Then I reveal the with held information. I have no clue why I do this. I guess it is because it is fun to confuse people. In the process of confusing others I confuse myself. Is the fun worth it?

Yes.

I feel like it is the same as a mute mime that can speak 13 different languages.

I feel like I talk about this a lot but never directly.

I really do enjoy it though. One example is acting like I have a personal bubble. Then whispering in their ear so they can feel my breath. It freaks people out.

You see this in scary moves... There is a little girl playing with the mud and giggling. She gets baby sat by a nice teen girl. In the end we find out that the little cutey has stabbed the nice teen four times because she didn't get enough ice cream. I wouldn't watch that movie.

I like to give the appearance that I do not give a damn to my parents. This is were I start to confuse myself. I start to act like I really don't care. And it affects the way I think. I have stopped  caring. It come in handy sometimes. But when my grade start slipping I need to care again.

When I was little I would play Hide & Go Seek. When I was the hider the other kids would give up on trying to find me. It wasn't just because I am great at hiding. I was because I would run over to one side of the park yell loud then sprint to the other side of  the park to hide. Or maybe the kids just wanted to get rid of me and never started looked in the first place. I still haven't decided which is the correct answer. 

I love looking confident but I have terrible stage fright.

My Dream Kiss

This is going to need a back story...

                 We have held hands, laughed when its just the two of us, 

            fallen asleep snuggling, spent enough time together that our families

            have started missing us. If I don't text them good morning they
            think I am dead. We have little arguments. We go on long drive and
            talk out our problems to each other. They call me by my full name
            and I have a nick name for them that I only use when it is just us.
            They keep telling me that people in relationships kiss....

   We are on a walk with tall non judgmental trees around us. It starts to snow. We start talking about things I won't remember in the future. We are walking to a pavilion. They have some how have enclosed their fingers between mine with out me noticing. It must be because I am thinking too much about letting them kiss me. There is a thought that is passing through my head like a stalker van; "Will they really Kiss me tonight? And will I let them?" We walk into the pavilion and we take a seat. We finish the conversation we were having while walking. I tell them I love them for the first time. They tell me that they love me for the second time. I want to snuggle up nice and close to them but that would make it hard for a kiss.

   We kiss.




  Maybe this is my virgin lips speaking. Perhaps its the person that has never been in a relationship wanting.

New Things Are Stupid

I would say that this is a bold statement if I was talking about everything. I am not. I am talking about random things. A new journal is stupid. Same with a sketch book, and a box of crayons.

  New things only have the potential to look like they were used well. I used to think that the newer the better but I know that I was wrong. I save things. The best origami paper that was foiled and was shiny. I wouldn't use them until I was great at folding. I still haven't used them. Crayons that are new are something different now with my new out look. I want them to make something good I want them to earn a story with me. I want my crayons to have the colors of others crayons on them. I want them to be in a bag to rub off on each other. 

 Old things are cool. They have stories hidden in their flaws. I want my journal to have many flaws. I want to have it with me everywhere so it will get the scent of all the places I will go. I want it to get water damage from the moister in the air at Niagara Falls and to have sand in it from the beaches of California.

Four Little Words

my emotions are high,
they are far from the sky,
they are where the people rest when they die,
the reservoir of happiness that i draw from has run dry,

people are thinking i am high,
they are saying that my thoughts are in the sky,
there are things inside of me that must die,
there are words that cannot get written for their ideas have gone dry,

i want to go somewhere high,
a place that touches my sky,
a place that if i jump i can die,
a place that is always wet and never dry,

i wish my self-esteem was high,
i would talk to them like i do to an open sky,
i would tell them i wish they'd never die,
speak until my mouth goes dry,

my emotions have depleted in height,
i will wait for the sun to pass over more skies
before i let my words go to rest with the dead,
i will prepare myself for my next drought.

                  -FeathersOnFish