Paris is Gone

Don't complain

Sit still

Eat your peas

Clean your room

Go to church

Pray in class

Watch conference.

Let go of freedom and all you see

Let go of pasts and hurt and joy 

Let go.

I am who I am and somehow I've forgotten. I'm the same as everyone else I'm tired and old and alone and no one cares. I'm here and I'm quiet and I'm...

I don't even know.

I'm not myself I'm someone else and I can't seem to shake the feeling of alone.

I can't run there's nowhere to hide and each time I breathe I feel dead inside.

The air is cold; it burns my throat and freezes my heart and all I can think is I'm falling apart. 

The pain and joy of yesterday is gone,

And man I wish to have it back,

Because it's been replaced by something new. 

Something darker, and colder.

I'm lost and alone,

There's nowhere to turn except Paris.

But Paris, as I knew it, 

Is Gone.

Is Anyone Still There? Can Anyone Still Hear Me? Paris Isn't Dead Yet, Don't Kill It. Please.

You want to know how to be alone? No you don't, no one wants to be alone, I mean not really.... But I'll tell you how anyways.

1. Surround yourself with people. Open up to them, get to know them, let them get to know you. Start to love them, let them love you. Go to Paris with them and get knocked up with words and rhymes, the kind of knocked up that only creates beauty and never pain.

2. Sit there, and listen. Sit there and wait until every single person has stood up and read their soul. Sit there until well after 1st semester has ended, sit there and close your eyes and listen to the sounds of Paris as she dies.

3. Watch as slowly each one of them leaves, one by one they begin to drift away. Schools need applying to, homework needs finishing, no longer does the insomniac have enough time in the hours of his day. One by one they all leave Paris, on to find bigger and better things. Things like Harvard, or Japan, or Sochi.

4. The final step. Stay in Paris. Stay even though you are the last one left to roam her empty streets, stay even though everything you once stood for has left you. Stay even though no matter how loud you scream no one will hear you. Stay in Paris forever.

That's how to be alone. You can never be alone unless you've tasted what it is to be involved, loved, hated, feared, respected. Taste joy, and then stay as everyone else's taste buds forget what it was to be needed.

But I'm not alone,
I stayed in Paris so long that the morning broke and new faces, new dreams arose. I stayed in Paris so long that people no longer recognize me. I'm not the girl they called on announcements, I'm not the girl who's slam you remember, but can't remember why. I'm a no one again.

I put on a black jacket because grey had too much light. I died my hair red,
and let Paris do the rest.

You're never alone for long, if you stay in Paris longer than you wish to admit.

How Can I Be In Love With Him?

I woke up today and my first thought was of him...
Is he awake at 8 am on Saturday?
Is he thinking about me?
Is he wishing he were here with me, in this messy room, just to hold me, and whisper his dreams in my ear?
Does he ever think about me?

But I know he doesn't.
And last night he didn't fall asleep and dream about me, about going on a picnic, and messing around, and doing crazy things.
Last night it didn't even cross his mind that someone was wishing they could hang out with him.
Someone like me...
Last night I was alone.
And I was thinking about him, and how happy I could be,
But I'm not happy.

And he never dreams of me.

Follow Your Dreams

I hate it when people say "follow your dreams" because it's like, I've had dreams and have been trying to follow them, but nothing's happened to me yet.
I've been trying to decide what to study in college, and what to do with my life.

Dream: Stay at home mom/writer.
Reality: Teacher or lawyer or therapist

Because let's be real, I won't get anywhere in life following my dreams.
Then I took Nelson's class and one day I was sitting in the back, by myself (as per usual) and I was just doodling about the future and I realized that I have a dream to follow and decided then and there that I wanted to do what I'd been only daring to dream about my whole life.

Then I had to enter a writing contest, and I was picked to be in the newspaper.

I've been working with the editor, and Thursday I'll be in the online version of the paper (hopefully print too, but she's not sure)

She has a grant so each writer gets $10... it's not a lot but it's a quarter tank of gas or lunch or something.

This is the email that inspired this post.
"I like "Through the Years"

His name is generic enough that we can use the full name.

The article should go online on Thursday, but the editor isn't always consistent. Once in a while they will print in the print edition, but I don't know if yours will be or not.

I've attached the final copy unless you want changes made.  I just had my 20 year old daughter read it and she laughed in three different places.  Notice, I made some verb changes, but I think that's about it.--I also deleted the part about times tables not necessary--this column sends out an RSS feed and it guarantees that everything is "Mom friendly." Mom's wouldn't want children to read that.

Again, it's your piece, so make sure you like it.

Also...I received a small grant to pay the writers--

 

you're a paid writer now.

 

 It's only $10 but hey...I'll need your address to send you your ten."

 

And that right there, "you're a paid writer now" is what made that dream come true...

 

My craziest dream came true in $10 and one email.

And I couldn't be happier!!

 

DREAMS DO COME TRUE!!

 

PS. um... I'M A FREAKING PAID WRITER NOW WHAT THE FLIP?!

Beautiful Prayers

I really like performance/slam poetry.
So I wrote another one,
And why not right?

I've never been one to see the beautiful side of life.
I've never been able to 'wake up and smell the roses'
I've never felt the lovin' of a man,
I've never tasted that taste of the air right before it rains.

And life's been alright. It hasn't been ugly, but it certainly hasn't been beautiful.
It's been pretty...bland. And I was cool with that.


Until I heard him speak. The rhymes he wrote and the words he crafted reflected my soul like the moon reflects off the still lake in the most hopeless hours of the night.

The things he said made me believe in beautiful.
He showed me my soul in his words,
And I saw the beauty that was there.

When he finished speaking,
I dared not breathe or move a muscle,
Coz' I didn't want the first sound after beautiful to be me.

He taught me
That truley beautiful things,
Need to feel like they should end with a prayer.

I Do

I really want to describe how I'm feeling right now, but it's like... I can't...

So I saw him today,
And *dang* is he beautiful.
"But my *gosh* it's so beautiful when the boy smiles."
And *our date* was *dang* perfect.

Like he opened the car doors for me perfect.

Like...what...

And you know what sucks? The fact that he is so perfect and come on now we make a cute.... wait never mind (I hate how that is 2 words it should be nevermind) now you know who I am...
*shiz*
Change the above... don't change the above...
Who is going to read this anyways/who will even know I posted...

The point is he's in love with someone else.
The point is, that didn't used to bother me,
And now it does... like... a lot.

Coz I mean, I was content with just being his friend, ya know?
Like I'll be super chill and fun and eventually things will progress.
Right?
Wrong.
Because after *our date* I realized how cute he really is, and how happy I am when I'm with him, and how much I want those hands to hold mine. How much I wish the other girl didn't love him back. How much I want those beautiful, perfect hands to hold my imperfect, abnormally small ones.

How much I want him to just tell me he cares about me, *dang* I wish he'd say that.

He won't.

And you know what sucks?

He loves another girl,
And I will forever be the armor girl,
Except armor girl didn't love the Knight.

And *I do*

Everything after this is pointless/ A Letter to the Boy I love

This post is pointless,
Everything after this post will be pointless because no one will read it.
But that's okay I'll write it anyways.

You know that feeling after your heartbreaks? Where you no longer get butterflies in your stomach after you see boys?
You know that feeling when you fall in love and the butterflies come back?
Well that happened to me today.
I stood up and walked down the steps.
"Can you guys hear me with out the mic." My heart skipped a beat after that.
Then I looked up,
And I saw your face.
The butterflies got me.
I think I might be in love,
Hell if I'll tell you with whom.
I fell in love with Paris,
And everyone in it.
I fell in love with knowing Nelson didn't read my journal because that means it's truly mine.
I fell in love with ideas and music, and prompts, and poetry.
I fell in love with you, because you are still reading my words and still loving what I do, even though now you know I'm me.
Even though now you know Lulu is a part of me who is still in here.
I'm afraid of boys,
But today Lulu wanted to chase after you and kiss you and thank you for shaping her into something beautiful.
Today I wanted to chase after you and hug you and thank you for shaping me into someone beautiful.
I've learned Lulu is my fearless side, and I have a fearless side.
I've learned that it's okay for all of us to let go, and let our fearless sides take over sometimes.
If I see you in the hall,
I'm going to hug you,
And tell you, you mean so much more to me than words on a computer screen I can't seem to escape from.
I'm sorry if you think I'm creepy,
But I know everything about you, the beautiful side and the not so beautiful side.
I think both sides are perfect.
I think you know who you are.
And I think you think I'm weird because you've never actually met me.
But you know me and I know you.
And you have lips and I have lips sooo...
It's not a coincidence.
Lulu has the guts to do things that I want to do, but can't.
Lulu will hit publish,
But only because I want her to.
All my Love,
Emily

Past Writers

I found the "Past Writers" tab of writersparis.
My name was there. I am past, no longer there no longer human.
LUB.
Now I'm just a name on a page that no one will read and no one will find because no one will be looking because none of us are human.
DUB.
I wrote a last lecture to Nelson about life before his class, before Paris.
He didn't read my journal because it wasn't pretty, or colorful, but it was mine.
LUB.
This is my last lecture to you, and I need you to know a few things....
One. this is not my last blog post so keep reading.
DUB.
Two. I gained confidence through your comments and your support.
Three. When I was about to give up on life Insolence found me, and lifted me up. Saved me.
LUB.
Four. Sky made me feel important, like I was worth figuring it out for.
Five. My best friend in my CW class has a girl pen name, but he's a boy.
DUB.
Six. I kinda fell in love...
Seven. But I haven't met him yet.
LUB.
Eight. I don't want to leave Paris, it's a state of mind, but I'm afraid once I walk away, my mind will wander off to business school, where I have to do math but I suck at math. I need Paris.
DUB.
Nine. I cry myself to sleep every night because I want to be held if only for a moment, I want to feel wanted.
LUB.
Ten. When we repeated after Nelson on Wednesday and banged on our desks, I felt something and my heart started pounding and for the first time in a long time, I felt alive.
DUB. LUB. DUB. LUB. DUB.


My heart beats fast now, I am alone, but Lulu is loved and she is me,
So I guess people love me too.

Love,
Emily Jackson

Versus

We live in a world of versus.

Coke vs. Pepsi

Edward vs. Jacob

Mac vs. PC     

Introducing the all new Kindle Fire HD vs. The iPad mini

Goldfish vs. Cheeze-its

Brother vs. Brother

School vs. Creativity

Art vs. Resistance.

These boundaries are put in our paths to shape our lives.

They determine what friends we have,

And what colleges we’re “allowed” to go to,

They determine how successful we’ll be…

Coke… and Pepsi…

And out of the two I don’t even know which I prefer, I don’t know what I’m supposed to prefer.

Coz I mean I live in Utah, but I’m not from here.

Do you guys even drink Coke and Pepsi? Is that even allowed?

That’s besides the point.

I’m not athletic but my mind runs so fast I can’t keep up.

And I don’t wear the cutest clothes, but in my gray jacket I feel at home.

And it’s no secret that I suck at math, but I know

2+2=4

And

4+4=8

And the things I ate yesterday don’t define me today because today

I have a choice.

 

SORTA…

 

Coke or Pepsi?

Edward or Jacob?

Mac or PC?

Kindle Fire HD or iPad mini?

Goldfish or Cheeze-its?!

School or Creativity?

Art vs. Resistance.

 

And in this world of versus,

With an abundance of limited choices,

In the war of Coke vs. Pepsi,

 

I drink Dr. Pepper.

 

P.S. This semester has been amazing, it's been a real honor and pleasure, writing, reading, commenting, and crying with you. Don't forget me, because I won't forget you, and I'll keep posting, even if no one continues reading, because this blog has changed my life, and you have changed my life. So thank you all... for everything.

Let's kick A** tomorrow k guyz?

Paris

On my first day in Paris I thought it would be just another stupid themed class, where to get an A you had to write for the teacher and I was thinking,
I don't know the first thing about Paris.

On the first day, I was a tourist. Excited and eager to write, but I was too busy looking at my map to see the beauty all around me.

The next six days we created a blog, and journals that took my breath away, and I started to grasp what Paris really is.

Paris is beautiful and amazing. It is everything you need it to be, and then some. It is the tears you cry at night and the joy you feel in the day.

Paris is not a theme, it is a lifestyle, it is air.
It's always there in our hearts, but sometimes we don't notice it.

Paris for me was an eye opener, I learned that I CAN and SHOULD.
In Paris, everything's possible, and the things that seem impossible, aren't real.

In Paris I could be me, and I learned to love all the people around me, who were also being "me's" (as in themselves)
In Paris I learned to love, and I learned to write.

After Paris I will never be the same.
And on Wednesday when I walk out of Nelson's room for the last time, I'll probably cry.
And on Friday, you'll notice me when I walk out of school with tears streaming down my face. (and I'm dead serious)
Because once you're in Paris,
You can never be the same.

Perfect Times to Get the FLU

Well I wrote my Poetry Slam poem, and I WAS super duper proud of it.
And when people are super proud of something they find excuses to show other people.
So my friends have all heard it and instead of saying, "change this," or "fix that."
They just go, "WOW that was really good." and it makes me smile, but secretly I want help because I'm going up in front of 30 profound writers and they are all better than me and it needs to be perfect.
So knowing my dad I knew he'd give me some criticism.

After the first three lines he stopped me to say,
There's no rhymes in this play.

I tried to explain
Rhymes destroy rain,
And they're a pain,
Where no one can gain.

So I took a deep breath,
And continued my queff...? (poetic license for quest?? wtf)

I gave myself goose pimples, that isn't new
and he just sat there with a face saying p.u.

"It wasn't a poem, it's just a speech,
And you pretty much kinda started to preach.

There isn't one rhyme,
and I don't think you're mine.

This isn't a poem it's just an OVERDRAMATIC, TOO PERSONAL, UNRHYMING SPEECH."

And that was pretty much the worst insult I could get from someone whose opinion matters most.

SO, I've got 3 days to write a new poem.
impersonal
unfeeling
and rhyming...

Maybe I'll get the flu Friday...

And then 1 hour later I realized that my dad is the resistance to my art.
So I'll perform my super awesome poem that I wrote :)

Describe yourself in two words... Go!

I am empathatic and loving. As a general rule I try to love everyone, I don't have to like them, but I manage to love them. I know how that sounds... But don't judge me, it's just one of my defining qualities, loving people to a fault is just a part of who I am. 

But it's a double edged sword. 

Boys. 

When I go on dates with guys (I'm not very pretty so it doesn't really happen that often) I love them, and that's that. The only boy I've ever kissed, he's a whole different story. He was the first guy who I liked and who liked me back. I could flirt with him and mess around and be witty and scarcastic and just... Me. So it's no suprise that when I moved away we stayed in touch. And even though we were far apart, somehow when I talked to him, it seemed we were so close, and somehow I loved him more and more. Now he's in Idaho, and he's only a stones throw away. I knew neither of us wanted a relationship but now I can go see him on weekends and I was thinking maybe this would change... "Us." 

So loving this guy, and being open honest me, I asked him if this would change our "relationship."

After spending 10 minutes convincing him it was me and not one of my friends, he just told me that last time we were in person I didn't want that. Last time we were in person was the last day before I was getting on a plane to Utah. So... I thought it a fair question. 

He was a total jerk. 

And now I just want to tell him, "Yeah, but that was before I loved you." And I've typed that three or four times now. And deleted it. 

So back to loving too much. I can't tell if I love this guy, or if I'm IN love with this guy. 

And the reason I'm worrying about it is because I think this is a struggle I'm going to face for the next howeverlong until I get married and even then... 

What the freak am I going to do. 

Clearly he's moved on but I love him (or am I IN love?!) so I don't have the ability to completely lose all feelings for him completely like he has me.

(I know this because he hasn't texted me since) 

Why is my life such a joke?!

P.S. I love you

I'm Desprate

So my family went out of town except for me and my dad.
My dad is at work and I woke up an hour ago.
I'm still in bed, bored as crap.
I'm wearing headphones but I don't have any music playing.
I don't have friends so no one can do anything...
SO, if you're free we can chill...

But mostly I'm alone.

And All We Are is Skin and Bones, Trained to Get Along.

I've been putting off posting for a couple days, and now I wish I hadn't. Last night I didn't sleep at all. My sister claims she didn't sleep either, that she was up with nightmares, but at least she was asleep long enough to have nightmares... I didn't sleep, I thought of something amazing to write, but decided not to write it, because I'd remember it in the morning, and my computer was far away. I don't remember it.
I really want to write something profound, something that will bring you to tears and then make you laugh.
I got my blood taken for the very first time today, I cried for 15 minutes, and chickened out three times, the third time they tried to restrain me, but I was stronger than they were, I eventually did it and then felt really stupid for acting like a four year old, because it didn't even hurt.
Someone found out who I am. HEY SKY TRILLION! don't know how, the only people who know who I am are my family and best friend (who just moved here and isn't even a senior) so congrats... now I don't want to post my story about blood, but oh well.
I didn't sleep last night because I'm out of my sleep, anti-depressant, and ADHD pills. (I'm sure you couldn't tell... #squirrel)
Oh! I won the writing contest I entered...

I'm pausing now to listen to what my bones are saying:

My mind churns like old gears of a giant clock, slow and purposeful,
While my fingers fly mindfully across the keys of this machine gliding over "backspace" after every mistake.
My eyes are closed, and behind my lids I can see a me who isn't afraid of anything, a me who isn't fat.
My head tilts up wanting to taste the sky, but I'm trapped inside this bubble of warm air.

My bones are telling me to follow my heart, and my heart is telling me to follow my dreams, and I can't dream because I can't sleep, and I can't function so I turn to my bones.
'And all we are is skin and bones, trained to get along.'
Something in here smells like sickly sweet Mexican food and it's driving me crazy.
FOCUS. Profound.
I can't breath I'm so anxious, and I'm frustrated so much because my clothes are itchy. I wish I could just be naked.
I hate technology.

Focus. focus... focus.

Never mind is two words and it's pissing me off.

This is why I take pills.
Focus, Lulu, Focus.
Karate Kid style "Your focus needs moooore focus."

I should be indexing right now.
I should be showering or brushing my hair or cleaning my room.

DAMN MEXICAN FOOD SMELLING CRAP WHAT THE FREAK IS THAT I DON'T EVEN EAT IN HERE HOLY MOTHER OF FREAKING CRAP BALLS!!!!

Ug.

Sorry I cussed. The smell... it's killing my creative juices.

I should not publish this.


I changed and went upstairs, got some inspiration and am about to blow your socks off, so if you make it all the way down here: congrats.

True love is like building up an immunity to the spiciness of flaming hot Cheetos, because it's his favorite snack.
Having siblings is like building up an immunity to flaming hot Cheetos because no one else likes them and therefore you can have a snack all to your self.
True love is like pretending you are doing something important so he will feel special when you stop what you are doing to talk to him.
Having siblings is like pretending you are doing something important because you know Mom has 3 other people she could ask to do that.
True love is like finding a lucky penny on the sidewalk and giving it to him for his big test today.
Having siblings is like finding a lucky penny on the sidewalk and keeping it until you need to throw it at them to get them to shut up.
True love is like holding his arm so you don't slide on the snow.
Having siblings is like holding their arm so you can pull them down with you when you fall.
True Love is like pillow fights you know will end in snuggling.
Having siblings is like pillow fights you hope no one gets a bloody nose from.
True love is like going for a walk alone to see if he will follow you.
Having siblings is like going for a walk alone, to be alone.
True love is like going crazy for all the right reasons.
Having siblings is like going crazy because of the DAMN MEXICAN FOOD THAT SOMEONE HAD TO OF BROUGHT INTO MY ROOM.
True love is like being in love.
Having siblings is like loving unconditionally and without escape.

I wouldn't trade my siblings for anything :)
Love you guys :)

PS. whoever ate in here is going to die.
PPS. Not really, but I've been saving pennies for a while :)

Sneezing

I've sneezed three times today... I pretty much want to die. #Nelson'sruinedmylife #sneeze #feather #scared

Diagnosed Depression

Nelson romanticizes depression. His way of speaking, and choosing the top five, based on how depressing a post is hints to me that he’s not actually one of the people who go to bed every night with the smell of pills and water lingering on his breath.

Well, I’m here to tell you that I am one of those people, and I’m not going to write about depressing things, not going to write about bleeding roses, or bleeding with the moon, or bleeding hearts. I am going to write about how it really feels to be depressed.

First I’d like to start with all of you who actually are diagnosed depressive’s, like me who either go to therapy, take pills, see a physiatrist, or a combination of the three; this is how depression feels to me, we are all different, but this is my view of it.

Second, I am so sick and tired of pretending like depression is some great muse for all the shi…z we write on our blogs. Not every single one of us can be as depressed as we pretend to be, look at me, actually diagnosed and not all of my posts are even close to sad. Stop pretending.

Okay, now that I’ve gotten all that out of the way I’d like to tell you what depression is for me.

Every day I wake up and stare at my ceiling. My bones ache because I know today is going to be full of fake smiles, forced laughs, and disappointment like every other day of my effing life.

Somehow I manage to struggle through school, and sometimes I think my medicine works because I actually feel good, real laughs sometimes escape my chapped lips and I can’t help smiling sometimes, but as soon as the joke is told, the cold shadow of my disorder creeps back into my heart and the smile disappears.

I drive home from school while listening to music; I’m generally in the mood that the music puts me in.

When I get home I feel alright, sometimes I had a bad day so I just feel like crap and sometimes I had a good day, and I still feel like crap.

So I go in my room, pretend like something matters, read a few blogs, maybe watch some T.V. but I always end up staring at the wall, or falling asleep.

That’s one of my symptoms, sleeping. I just let my mind go blank.

It’s hard to describe what it’s often like to be depressed, I feel numb, indifferent to all that is going on around me. I don’t feel pain, or joy. I just feel nothing. But at the same time that numbness hurts and causes pain, I hide it by getting lost in movies, or blogs, or books, or sleep.

Then I’m called to action, I think that all is well, and go upstairs and try to help. But I always screw up, always do something wrong. Never do the thing I’m supposed to do and end up feeling like crap again.

So I just go back to bed, wake up for dinner, wake up for pills, occasionally see the good. And try to survive.

Sometimes though the decision to survive is not one I make. I went to the store to get stuff for my mom, I don’t have any money and forgot her card, so I used what little $16.15 I had on my card and bought what I could. She was mad at me. On the way home a cop had pulled over someone for speeding, I wanted to speed into the cop, and then get T-boned; no one would know it was suicide. I decided to go through with it but my foot wouldn’t push the gas pedal, and my arms wouldn’t turn the wheel.

See, the depression doesn’t want to just make me miserable; it wants to torture me and never let me escape the things that I so desperately need to let go of.

So, that’s basically what I go through every day.

I’m just sick and tired of people claiming depression and saying, “Uh yeah my life sucks durpadurp and then the roses bled and nothing was colorful.” If you really have depression and think like that, sorry, this isn’t directed at you. This is directed at those who think depression is a joke.

I’m not laughing.

P.S. I changed/deleted 3 F-bombs, 2 D-words and 1 S-word. I really wanted to cuss

Brainstorms of the Soul

I started thinking about what I would write about for my slam poetry thingy at the beginning of November. And I thought I had come up with something awesome. Then I grew up.

I learned a little bit about what it means to be honest, and a little bit about who I am.

I learned that writing about me really isn't that bad because not everyone likes me in real life so not everyone will like me on here.

I learned that not all aspects of my life are depressing so I don't have to pretend like they are.

ANYWAYS. I've been trying to come up with something awesome... trying to think of something about me that I could reveal to the world, but it's proved to be harder than I thought.

I performed one of my poems today (I guess if you figure out who I am then oh well....) and it went so well that I wish I hadn't of performed it because now I can't read it at the slam. Maybe I'll read one just like it.

I don't want to read any of my blogs because if you have seen them then it'll be boring and if you haven't then sucks to suck.

So first I guess I need to come up with a topic.

Ug. I can't think of anything.

I got my heart broken on Monday. This guy was so oblivious, he was bragging about the girl he likes and this amazing date they went on, I was sitting right there and he didn't even know... It's his fault for leading me on like that. Three people have told me I deserve better, but I thought (think) he's this amazing guy who is just awesome who could be better than him and would I really deserve them?
Obviously I'm not over him yet, but it's weird because I'm just numb, until now. I've written it out and now I've let the pain in and um... ouch.

He's kind of an ass... oh well.
I'll get over him eventually... one day... possibly.

A girl in my creative writing class was there, she knew about me, and she hurt me too, but she most likely won't ever read this so oh well...

Why don't I have the balls to just post his name?
She'll tell him. Why do I care?
Because I see him everyday and every time I go to church and every time I close my eyes.

I learned today that when you get up to read something you've written, everyone who hears you takes a little piece of your soul. Sometimes they take the piece you hand them and are polite and don't take more. Sometimes they listen to your words and look at you, their eyes pierce your soul and they take a huge chunk of something you didn't want them to have. I'm not ready to have my soul ripped out and fed to any senior that wants it. Give it back.

I pretend I'm not confident so my friends don't think I am. Then I pretend to be confident so people don't think I'm self conscious, but when I look in the mirror, sometimes I see a beautiful girl, and sometimes I see some fat chick with a scowl. eh.. oh well.

I have an audience to write for and a purpose to post, and that gives me a purpose to live, maybe I like that you'll have my soul... maybe it'll make me feel important, maybe after you take all my walls down I'll be able to feel something, anything, hurt, pain, anguish, love, hope, joy. Merry Christmas.

Am I numb because I'm scared of pain, or because I'm depressed, or does my medicine make me impervious to all emotion?

I have no clue.

Well, I just wrote this today, and it took me 45 minutes, so either it sucks or is good or my entire life is a turd with no bacon, or cheese. Oh well, it's kinda a rough draft for my slam, or really a brainstorm, I want to delete it but if I give it to you now, then you'll already have part of my soul, so when I read it in front of you for real then it won't hurt as bad to have my entire soul taken from me all at once.
So there.

Take My Soul. I don't want it anymore.

The truth is:
More than sometimes, I cuss.
Sometimes, I've cut.
Mostly, I have a broken heart because guys won't give me the time of day.
I have friends who I only became friends with because they are broken and I like to fix people.

I'm a bitch.
I hate certain people.
Everyone thinks of me as a different person. If you got all of my friends into one room and asked them to describe me, their answers would be so different you'd think they were trippin'.

I love heavy bass songs.
My favorite color is pink.
I'm the most non girly-girly girl you will ever meet.

I don't look like I have muscle, but I can most likely lift more than any of you. Boxes, and furniture and stuff, where it matters, not in a gym where it's a bunch of hypothetical crap.

I don't want to post this because I can't count on my fingers and toes how many people it will piss off.

Insolence is Bliss inspired me to write this.

I can cook but I pretend like I can't so I don't have to make dinner.

I want a boyfriend. But my definition of a boyfriend.

My family is messed up.

I never used to cry in class but my life is crashing down around me. I cried today, and on Friday... in front of people.

I have weird anxieties.

I have ADHD and I have depression. I'm on lamectal and Intuniv. I'm supposed to be on Wellbutrin too, but my prescription ran out.
I don't know what any of those medicines do, I'm still distracted as crap, and so numb it didn't even hurt today when a guy ripped my heart out and fed it to the "Mine" birds from Nemo. You are all "Mine" Birds so screw you.

I'm a nice person and wouldn't actually hurt a fly, I act mean because if I don't I'll get hurt.
I wouldn't hurt a fly because I'm scared of the crunching sound bugs sometimes make when you kill them. It haunts me and gives me nightmares.

I'm team Phantom, not just metaphorically.

I can't spell to save my life.

I bite my nails. One time I had a friend who told me biting your nails is bad for your throat and stomach. I didn't understand why she would say that because she bites her nails too. I found out she swallows her nails, it just bugs me when they are too long... ew.

I'm friends with homosexual people. But I don't want to give them the right to be married.

I think I'm a hypocrite and I'm probably mental.

If a guy says something nice to me it makes me want to go on a date with them because guys never say nice stuff to me... it hurts. A lot.

I can't spell, but if you spell the words that I know how to spell wrong, or miss grammar something (like I do all the time) and I notice it, it bothers me to no end.

I've never read the Book of Mormon, but I'm working on it.

I'm going to BYU-Idaho to major in creative writing... So am I a fence sitter?

My sister will read this post, show my mom and my mom will make me delete it. Then, I'll delete it.

So read it fast.

I want to delete my last post.

BOYS ARE JERKS.

THEY SUCK.

THE END.

This Isn't as Depressing As It Should Be.

I know Nelson said he's sick of reading depressing stuff but right now I'm a little depressed, and I blame boys.

There's this guy... I pretty much have a crush on him.
I asked him to preference a month ago, I'm still waiting on an answer.

But he's pretty much perfect. He has the same church calling as me, so we talk.
He's in two of my classes, so we flirt.

I have mutual with him once a month. So we talk AND flirt.
He winks at me and smiles.

Holy crap that smile.
He thinks I'm funny and teases me.

But he hasn't answered me yet.
I don't want anything fancy, just a simple yes.

Or maybe he doesn't know how to say no.
Or maybe he's waiting for someone better to ask him.

I wish he'd just say no.
I wish he'd just like me back.

He's one of those guys who can have anyone he likes.
Or anyone he wants.

Does he like me?
Would he want me?

I doubt it. He hasn't answered.
I don't know what to do.

This still isn't as depressing as Nelson claims he doesn't like... oh well.
I wrote a post, the most honest, depressing post I've ever written.

And I needed you to read it because it was real.
But my mom said it was too honest, to real.

And she made me delete it.
That's the most depressing thing of all.

Mad Libs by: Peer Tutors

We take our work seriously as peer tutors.


We made the last page a mad lib.

I Want a Boyfriend

I don't want sex. 

I don't want drama.

I don't want heartbreak, or expectations, or complications.

I just want a boyfriend.

I want a guy to carry my stuff and walk me to class.

I want him to take me to all the football games just to cuddle. 

I want him to go to the park with me and play.

I want a boyfriend.

I don't want jealous ex's.

I don't want to come second.

I don't want to get married.

I just want a boyfriend.

I want kisses on the cheek. 

I want to share a blanket.

I want to hold hands.

I want a boyfriend.

I don't want to pay for dinner, or movie tickets.

I don't want to just get salad cause I'm self conscious.

I don't want... 

I just want a boyfriend.

Is that too much to ask? 

My Sister's Thought Process

My little sister wanted to write a blog post. I typed it up for her.

Me: Idk talk about today.
Her: Or bananas...

Um... most people just know bananas are fruits, and they really are. Some people when I say, "Fruits have seeds and vegetables don't," and then I quiz them on what are fruits and what are vegetables... so when I say banana they always say vegetable... It's weird. The End.

Me: Best. Blog. Ever.

10 Inventions

1. I remember when cookies didn't come in a convenient resalable bag.

2. I remember when cans didn't come with a soda pop lid. They all had to be opened with a can opener. My dad works in the metals business so he told us about those before they became popular. #mydad'sahipster

3. I remember when you had to roll up the windows. Literally. #balancerestored

4. I remember blockbuster.

5. I remember Fireflies.

 

6. I remember slap bracelets.





7. I remember cool S's.

8. I remember Lisa Frank folders.

9. I remember NSYNC.

10. I remember when the only thing to watch was PBS Kids.

My Love Story