If You Knew

If you knew where I was,

Would you come running to me?

If you knew how it hurt,

Would you heal me?

If you knew I was drowning in thoughts,

Would you save me?

If you knew how hard I tried,

Would you appreciate it?

If you knew how many tears I’d shed,

Would you dry them?

If you knew how many hours of sleep I’d lost,

Would you sleep next to me?

If you knew how many smiles I’ve faked,

Would you come and make one worthwhile?

If you knew how many times I’d wished you

were mine,

Would you chose me?

If only you knew,

How much it hurt,

How much it still hurts,

How much it will always hurt,

Maybe then you would come back,

Maybe then you’d realize what you did to me,

Maybe then you’d finally choose me,

Maybe in another life,

You would come running to me,

But,

With a final smile,

And a final breath,

I will say goodbye,

To the world that was so unkind,

To my fragile soul.

G

 O

  O

    D

     B

      Y

       E

        M

        Y

     O

   N

 E

&

 O

  N

    L

     Y

Goodbye my hopeless love.

Lyrics from "Dust and Gold" by Arrows to Athens

Time Stood Still

Time Stood Still

I am from overflowing bookshelves

with bursts of color like a Picasso painting,

From towers and mountains of journals and notebooks

filled with random thoughts, ideas, observations.

I am from the neighbour's magnolia tree

with its large leaves knocking together in the wind

like a child banging wooden learning blocks together.

I’m from the single yellow and pink rose

that visits in the midst of the fifth month.

I am from the medieval castle puzzle

teeming with lords, ladies, and knights,

And from the over thirty barbies I owned.

I’m from enormous, sweet, and soft apricots

that ripened during the summer on Grandpa’s farm.

And aggravating mosquito bites

from playing in the park too late.

I’m from, “Remember, Misho, treat everyone the same.”

I’m from the small European country

between Greece and Romania.

I am from bow shaped pasta

eaten with feta cheese and sugar,

And grape-sized squishy blueberries

which I called bimbam.

I’m from Wingardium LeviOsa, not LeviosA,

From sitting on the couch and saying “Accio Remote!”

and hoping it would really fly into your hand

like a bird flying to its nest.

I am from sarcastic friends and understanding family members,

From in between the pages of books,

where I lose and find myself.

I am from those moments after a long and draining day,

lying on the ground alongside my friends

and laughing over the littlest, most ridiculous things,

until it felt like an ab workout.

In those moments - time stood still.

Wise Lyrics from "A Little Too Much" by Shawn Mendes

I am currently SUPER obsessed with Shawn Mendes. If you don't know who that is,  please be so kind as to leave my blog. These are some lyrics from his song titled "A Little Too Much" from his album "Handwritten".

Fading From Your Mind

Fading From Your Mind

We met at the maple tree.

It was autumn,

Leaves beginning to blush,

Just as my cheeks did when I ran into him.

I’m not sure how it became,

But it was lovely, he was lovely.

He was stalwart and kind.

It is germane at this point,

To say I was in love.

But he began to ignore my class,

He spurned my attempts at conversation.

Until one day, I saw him,

Sitting on the escarpment,

With his arms around another girl.

And suddenly I understood.

Pain like I’ve never felt before,

Violently tore through my heart.

I came home and cried,

Over his sinister actions.

And soon those tears,

Turned to guttural sobs.

The next week was full of lethargy.

I was heartbroken and petulant.

I tried to convince myself,

That it was okay,

But I couldn’t countenance it any longer.

I lay awake at night,

Staring at the moon,

The curtains flow,

Looking like ghosts,

As the keening wind wails.

And I just lay there,

With a hand over my mouth,

Tears streaming down my no-longer blushing cheeks,

And try to be silent,

So I do not wake my family.

And I cry,

Because I know a part of me will always love you.

Maybe we feel empty,

Because we leave a piece of ourselves,

In everything we’ve ever loved.

You will forever be the person,

That I look for in a crowded room.

But

 I

 Can

   Feel

     Myself

       Slowly

         Fading

            From

               Your

                 Mind

Troubles of Having Glasses

This meme I made perfectly describes everyone's life with glasses. Anyone growing up with glasses can identity, I'm sure. It's the most annoying thing in the world when someone asks to try on your glasses. Like, excuse you, I need them to see, mind you!

Letter From Jamestown

So I had this project in history class where I had to write from the perspective of someone in the original settlement of Jamestown. We are studying American History so almost all of these events are historically accurate. Of course, I made up some parts. Here it is:

March 30, 1610

Dear Mother,

I’m ever so sorry I ran from home. I had it in my mind that the

New World would be better. How wrong I was. Mother, it has been dreadful!

Where was my head when I thought this would benefit me, Mother? I was only fourteen! A terribly foolish boy with no sense of right and wrong. We were all hopeful, yet had no right to be if we knew what fate would be thrust upon us.

Oh, Mother! We took to the first river we saw for we were so desperate to land. And there we settled. We built our little town (which was to be named Jamestown for our king) and tried to establish a life. But oh how different surviving is from living! And in a few months, Mother, we were already grasping life by only our fingertips.

People would fall suddenly ill and no one knew why. I had quite a fever myself. Most that fell sick would die. But not us younger ones. And oh how quickly our food ran out! And none of the men are willing to farm more to sustain us. We tried to trade with the Indians, but those savages wouldn’t aid us!

But then, Mother, appeared John Smith - a god, a savior. The silver lining. He created a friendly relationship with the savages and everything seemed alright for a while. But soon our hero was sent back to England for he suffered an injury. And as if he were the only strand keeping us together, everything fell apart again.

Winter was approaching and we didn’t have sufficient food to last us through it. We sent thirty-six men with Francis West to barter with the Indians. They never returned, Mother. We fear the savages killed them.

The winter was absolutely horrendous. We ate roots, weeds, rats, leather - whatever we could find. And soon even those things weren’t options. Oh Mother, I never knew human flesh tasted so good. We would bury the dead, but soon enough the bodies would be dug up again and eaten. Mother, I cringe at our miscreance, our desperate intentions. And not only that, but the savages would attack us at random and without warning. The other three boys here, my three friends, died in just this way. I never got to tell them how much they meant to me. I cried for days, Mother. The last words I said to them were “You’re all idiots -  the three of you.” For they had asked me if I wanted to get out of the town into the forest. The Indians were just outside the gates. And I saw them go, Mother. James, Richard, and Nathaniel - gone. The arrows through their bodies… I can’t think of it.

But recently, Mother, ships have arrived and saved us. I have made new friends, though they will never be like James, Nathaniel, and Richard. And a man, John Rolfe, married the Indian princess Pocahontas. We are all well now. There is peace.

I miss you terribly and I always will, Mother. Perhaps I will come back to England one day. Or you can visit here. I promise there is no more danger. Until next time, Mother. I love you.

Your son,

Samuell Collier

Good Mixed in with the Bad

Good Mixed in with the Bad

“I hate you! Go away! You don’t understand!” Chase shouted and slammed the door in his parents’ face. He pushed in the lock.

“Chase you open this door right now!” he heard his father demand. The doorknob shook violently.

“No! I won’t!”

Chase flopped onto his bed and slammed his fist on the wall in frustration. He hated his life.

It all started this morning when he woke up and found he had nothing to wear for picture day. He had had to borrow his father’s old-schooled flannel and khakis. When he entered the bathroom, he saw the horrible red bumps on his face in the mirror. The worst case of acne he had ever had. After frantically washing his face with water multiple times, hoping that the zits would magically go away, he trudged down stairs and begun making his usual scrambled eggs.

There, Chase poured a little bit of cooking oil in the frying pan and waited for the oil to heat up. He opened his fridge and took out two raw eggs. He cracked one egg on the counter and emptied it into the pan. The gooey yolk bobbed around in the white of the egg, but only for a second, because as soon as the egg touched the hot oil, the egg white became somewhat solid and sizzled.

He hit the other egg on the counter gently, and it did not crack. He hit it again, harder, and its shell exploded.

Little egg shell fragments and goo ran down his father’s pant and shoes. It was disgusting.

Chase ran to the sink and frantically began to scrub off the raw egg with water. As he was so carelessly doing so, a bit of water splashed back to the stove. As the water and oil met, the oil crackled and an overwhelming smell of burning filled the air.

An aggravating and earsplitting BEEP, BEEP, BEEP followed. The fire alarm had gone off.

Chase jumped back to the stove and turned it off. He moved the pan from the stove into the sink, and the still fizzing oil lept from the pan and mildly burned his upper arm.

He quickly ran cold water over his burn and dabbed on a little baking soda, as his mother had always told him to do in the case of a burn.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!!!

Chase took a chair from the table and positioned it under the fire alarm. He pushed the button to mute it. He stepped down from the chair and put it back. How quiet the room now seemed. How tranquil.

He padded back upstairs to change his clothes. Then he collapsed onto his bed and covered his eyes with his forearm. The warm sheets engulfed him like a mother’s hug.

He could tell that this was going to be a bad day.

“Chase!” his mother called after a few minutes. “Let’s go. I’ve got to be at work by eight thirty today so hurry up!”

Chase lazily slipped off his bed and walked downstairs. His mom was already at the door, putting on her coat that was as black as oblivion.

He laced up his Nikes and threw on a jacket.

“Chase, it’s picture day.” His mom fixed him with a serious glare.

He stared right back into her eyes. “I don’t care anymore.”

“But what about Katy? What will she think?”

“Mom, Katy and I have been together since sophomore year. I doubt my girlfriend as of two going on three years will care how I dress.”

“Fine…” She finally gave in but still gave him that look that read, my son looks like a hobo going to a debutante ball.

Not that Chase cared.

School was actually fine for him until PE class, which was when the pictures would be taken.

As the line got significantly shorter, like a snake entering a deep dark hole under the earth, Chase got more and more anxious about his attire. Maybe he sould have worn something nicer. And when his turn finally came up, he stood on the red X nervously.

“Stand facing the corner,” the photographer instructed. “That’s it, a little more to the left. Now turn your head towards me. Just a little more, and another inch more towards me. That’s it. Now stay still.”

Just as the camera man poised his fingertip over the professional camera, Chase felt a sudden itch on his nose. He quickly reached up to relieve the irritation, and a blinding white flash of lightning emerged from the camera.

A few minutes later Chase retrieved his student ID card and stared at his photo. A strand from his caramel colored hair was sticking straight up. Why hadn’t he worn gel? And one of his startling green eyes was more closed than the other. And worst of all, his finger was scratching the itch he had felt and it looked like he was picking his nose.

Great, just great. His photo in the yearbook would be the worst yet. And in senior year too! Gosh his life was messed up. What had he done to deserve this punishment or a day?

After school, Chase met up with Katy at the front of the school.

“Can I see your photo?” She said.

“No. Can I see yours?”

“Only if I can see yours.”

“Then no,” Chase insisted.

Then Katy looked him straight in the eye, “Chase…”

An uncomfortable feeling rose up in his gut, a vacuum sucking up his insides. This was not good news, he could tell.

“Chase, this isn't going to work out anymore.”

“W-what?”

“I sort of like this other guy…”

“Oh, oh yeah, whatever, no problem. Um… Okay.”

A punch in the heart. A scrape to the head. A fracture to his foot. Anything would’ve been less painful.

“W-who?” Chase stuttered. Then cleared his throat. “Who is it I mean.”

She averted her gaze, “Anthony Harwell…”

Ouch. Chase’s archenemy from second grade. He’d always hated him. Why did she have to go and like him? Out of all the guys she could’ve chosen, Anthony Harwell. Just perfect.

And it hurt. Hurting someone could be just as simple as throwing a stone into the ocean, but you have no idea how deep that stone can sink. And this stone sunk into the Mariana Trench of Chase’s soul.

“Oh,” he replied. “Cool. Well I hope he treats you alright…?”

“Thanks,” Katy replied awkwardly, turned around, and left.

And he couldn’t help but feel like those were the last words she’s ever say to him and vise versa.

Katy was supposed to drive him to his drivers test, since she had gotten hers a few weeks before, but now Chase had to call his mom.

“She won’t be happy,” Chase thought to himself.

But he dialed her number anyway and waited.

Brrrring, brrrring, brrrring. It took a total of five rings before she answered. And she was not pleased to do so.

“Chase Warden! I was in the middle of a business meeting! How dare you call me now of all times?!”

“Mom,” he replied meekly, “Katy broke up with me and I don’t have someone to drive me there or to borrow their car.”

She hesitated. “I’m sorry about Katy, but can you wait another hour until my meeting is finished?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She hung up and Chase could picture her going back into the meeting room trying to be discreet and apologizing to whoever was presenting.

He kept waiting at the front of the school with the weight of Katy’s betrayal holding him down. He would never be the same again, would he? He had been sure that Katy was the one. The One. The Special One. But I guess not. And if it really was meant to be, fate would find a way in the end. If not, then there had to be someone else out there.

A little over an hour later, Chase was in his mom’s car and ready to take his driving test. The driving overseer was sitting shotgun.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come along, Honey?”

“Ugh, Mom. I can do this alone you know. Please don’t come. I’ll be back soon.”

She stepped away from the door, hurt. Chase felt a little sorry, but he was in a bit of a cranky mood considering how bad his day had been going so far, so he looked ahead and waited for the instructor’s approval to start.

“Okay, Mr. Warden, please begin.”

Chase turned the ignition key. He felt like he was unlocking a door into his future. After this single day, nothing would be the same. Funny how much can happen in one life, one year, one month, one day, one second, just a single moment.

He took a step through that door as he pushed on the gas pedal and was off. Through the door. Into his future.

“Turn left here,” the instructor said after a few moments.

Chase switched lanes and turned on the flashing left tail light. Then he waited for the light to turn green.

What had Katy seen in Anthony? He wasn’t anything special! Then again, Chase himself wasn’t either. But why Anthony? Chase had despised Anthony since the second grade and Katy knew that. How dare she like him?

“Mr. Warden! The light is green!”

Chase smiled sheepishly and turned left.

A screech of tires, shouts, headlights exploding, the airbags ejecting, thrown forward against his seat belt, hitting his chest on the wheel. More shouts.

He had almost hit some stupid pedestrian that had been crossing the street while the crosswalk light was red. Chase had swerved and hit a telephone pole.

The drive inspector was swearing at him and so were the bystanders. He turned red as a ripe apple and shouted. “WELL FOR GOD’S SAKE AT LEAST NO ONE DIED!”

The seat belt had given him a bruise where it had restrained him and he would surely have a bump on his head from the steering wheel, but other than that, everything was okay. But what would his mom say…? He had wrecked her car and failed his test miserably.

Chase had never believed in luck, but given the last few occurrences of today, bad luck did seem to take an extreme liking to him.

After the police had come and driven them back to the car agency, Chase felt the most reluctant that he ever had in his life to face his mother.

“Chase Warden what did you think you were doing? That was not a cheap car at all! And a fairly new one too! You are grounded for six months, young man. Just wait until your father hears about this!” She exploded as soon as the police explained.

And the shouting went on and on and on, endlessly.

“Mom, at least I didn’t kill anyone, okay?! I could’ve died, or the darned pedestrian could’ve died! But hey, guess what?! NO ONE DIED! It’s okay! Stop yelling no one cares!”

And that was the wrong thing to say.

“No one cares? NO ONE CARES? ARE YOU INSANE? My eighteen year old son took his driving test and almost killed someone!”

“But I didn't!”

More yelling and telling off from his mother. Then she called his dad to come and pick the two of them up with his car.

Chase got into his dad’s car a few minutes later and refused to speak to anyone.

“Chase…” his dad began

“No. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t particularly care either,” Chase shot back, ignoring the possible consequences.

Silence followed and lasted for the remaining time of the trip back to their house from the car agency.

Chase stormed up to his room as soon as they entered the house. His parents tried to follow.

“I hate you!” He shouted as they again tried to talk to him. He slammed the door and flung himself onto his bed. A numbing pain filled his hand after he slammed it on the wall out of frustration.

They just didn’t get it! Any of it! How many times had they been dumped by the person they thought would be their significant other? How many times had they almost killed someone taking their very first driving test? God, help him. His life sucked.

Hours passed, and Chase didn’t move. Then, in the dark of night, with his parents in bed, he sat abruptly up in bed.

He would run. Away. Far away. And since he had no car, he would take his skateboard. He would be a runaway.

Chase didn’t bother to leave a note or to pack any belongings. He simply left and neglected to put on his helmet.

He was surprised to see how many cars there actually were driving around at 1:00 in the morning.

He kept pushing the skateboard on and on with his right foot. He didn’t want to feel anything right now. No thoughts, no emotions, no pain. But they came to him anyway.

Katy. A person who valued him would never have put themselves in a position to lose him. Yet… He had thought Katy valued him. She couldn’t have been pretending right? Two full years together. If Chase took out his phone - right now - and texted Katy that he missed her, would it mean anything to her? Anything at all?

He drowned in sorrow and regret and misery. Looking straight ahead, a stoic expression on his stone hard face.

A red light. Turning the corner. Driving drunk. Swerving out of control. Flying, weightless. No helmet. Pain. Darkness…

***

“Chase. Chase please, Honey. Wake up. Please.”

Crying. Fuzzy faces. People in white. Plastic tubes. Scary metal tools. “Chase” over and over again. More sobbing.

The images cleared and he was lying in a hospital bed. Plain perfect white sheets. His parent standing above him. The multiple doctors monitoring his heart rate and whatnot.

He sat up and pain shot through to his head. He lay down again.

“W-wha.”

“Shh… Sweetie, it’s alright,” his mother whispered consolingly.

“What happened, Mom? Dad?”

“You got hit by a drunk driver, Son,” his father informed him softly. “You have a few skull fractures and more minor fractures in your arms and legs.”

“But I don’t feel anything.”

“That’s good. Because if you did, you’d probably pass out unconscious again,” one of the nurses informed him.

He stared at the ceiling and let the chaos around him rage on. He didn’t want to think right now.

He wanted to be thankful, and he was. No matter how bad today had been, his life was the life someone less fortunate was praying for. And besides, it was a bad day. A single bad day, not a bad life. Life would continue on, but if there is no bad mixed in with the good, how would anyone know what good was?

Sorry it seems a little rushed. I wrote this for English class and it already exceeded the page limit so I sort of had to rush it.  Hope you enjoy though!