katniss12's blog

She was born, lived, and died.

Friend was born, lived, and died.

She and Friend grew up together.

She and Friend loved being friends.

Friend and She were crazy together.

She and Friend cried as one.

Friend helped She. She helped Friend.

If Friend hurt, She was there.

If She hurt, Friend was there. 

They were inseparable, Friend and She. 

Friend and She went different ways.

She and Friend both grew up. 

One day, Friend and She met.

She missed Friend. Friend missed She.

Neither had forgotten their childhood friendship.

They were born, lived, died: Friends.

Bah-thump. Bah-thump. Bah-thump. Bah-

Thump goes the box.

The truck drives away.

Bah-thump, Bah-thump, Bah-thump

Stepping out, a man-sized box

Occupies the porch.

Bu-thump, bu-thump, bu-thump

They sent it. Finally.

Straining to pull the tape off with my hands.

Bu-thump bu-thump bu-thump

It gives a little.

Rrrrrrip! And the tape is gone

Bathumpbahumpbathump

I have it.

They told me I would be able to follow.

Thump thump thump thump thump

The galaxies, the worlds, the knowledge.

Compiled into this unassuming package

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump

I look down.

And step inside.

Bah-thump.

What If

A popular question indeed.

What if you had pulled out as soon as the light turned green

And that car, that car, hadn't seen

Hadn't stopped.

Had just kept driving and driving and driving into you

What if she hadn't been sick that day?

What if she had been in that classroom 

with that shooter, that evil man, 

that gun spitting a shower of death into a room of people

who hadn't begun to live.

What if he had signed up for that concert?

What if he had been there for the talent scout,

for the man who would fulfill his dreams,

the man who could take him out of the nightmare

that was, is, and will be his life.

What if we stopped wondering

what if?

What if we lived our lives to the fullest,

planning for the future,

living in the now, 

And leaving the what if's 

alone?

How can you document a human life?

How to find words for an indescribable emotion, the slight look that speaks volumes?

My words are nets, capturing much of the larger emotions and ideas

But it is the small ones that identify a person,

and those are the ones I cannot capture. 

The curl of the hand around a pencil

A look of concentration.

We can capture so much, But 

without a name to the person, they are the sam as millions

Who do the same thing.

It is the small things that our eyes just catch, 

And our words cannot fathom

that create a human. 

And it is our nuances

that make us different.

But not just dark,it's black. The color of death, a complete absence of color. I hear something shift behind me. I jump into a defensive stance, my small Swiss Army knife held out in front of me like a weak ward against them. I know they are here. I sense movement, and turn to it. Nothing is there. It's not safe here, in my clearing with too many trees to hide in and not nearly enough light to fight by. Turnig, I run, pacing myself for distance. The mulch crunches under my feet, springing me forward with every step. My muscles, tight with adrenaline-laced fear, want to run,to flee, and hide from the beasts. But I know that if I go faster, I will be dead from exhaustion before I get to my destination. 

I finally reach the flat plain. In my starved state, it takes me longer than usual to realize my lack of cover, also meaning a lack of cover for them. Unless they were tunneling under me now. I look down, dreading the sight of the raised mound that would show their progress. The ground is as flat as everything else. I sigh, and focus on running a little bit faster. Something swoops low above my head. I ignore it at  first, until i feel the familiar tiny metallic pull at my hair. I scream, and try to shake it off. This means they've found me, they'll take me back, they'll, they'll . . . Read more »

The worst part of grief is not the hiccuping, gasping sobs brought forth from 20,000 leagues under your deepest secrets. 

Not the sympathy manufactured from people you never met

It's the deep weight in your chest that no doctor or surgeon can reach 

The pain that you hide with that smile on your face Read more »

Maya stood at her disgusting orange locker. Under her breath she murmured "4 . . . now 8 . . . 51. Thank you for not sticking . . ." A trio of upperclassmen swaggered around the corner and down the hallway. She was a freshman, new to the school system, and alone in the hallway, so it was only natural for her ears to perk up at the word "pregnant." With her back to them, she continued to take out her books, listening all the while. 

"So did you hear the Luce is pregnant?" His voice had the deep, low quality of a base singer.

"Naw, really?" The second one sounded like a mouse.

"Yeah! I know her sister, and she told me!"  This third one sounded like the average, indestructible king-of-the-hill highschool guy.

Mouse spoke up. "Wow, can you see Nick being a dad?"

All three started laughing like Nick's fathering skills were the funniest joke they'd ever heard. 

Maya bent down to get her books, purposefully turning sideways to the gang. Someone started whistling. She walked away before she could hear anything else, her mind reeling. Luce? Her friend, her only friend from middle school? Luce was the first one who'd bothered to speak to the new girl, saying that she knew how it felt to not know anyone. And now . . . . Read more »

I always know people before they know me.

I can see them, know about their friends and parties and gossip,

but they don't know me.

I'm the one you won't see when you walk in a room,

the one who sits behind you in five of your 8 classes,

the one named "That girl" and "whats-her-name" and "the quiet one"

I'm the oddity, the anomaly, 

the one blessed and cursed with invisibility.

A few, a small few, sometimes see me

 hear me,

speak with me,

know me.

All those people who wish that they could be invisible?

They are the ones who look through me.

It is my turn. Each atom in my body wants to rebel, to run away, to forget the risk and play it safe. But mind beats matter, and it is my subconscious, trained to answer to the call of my name, that makes my feet push off the floor, and keeps my legs strong enough to hold me. The smooth silk of my gown rustles softly as I stand, eager to be seen in its smooth, graceful glory. I slowly pick up my tools. I cannot do this without them. The rosewood glistens in the llights; its visible beauty is no match for the audible ecstasy that it releases with the soft stroke of the horse hair. I can see them waiting for me, the conductor looking in my direction. I want, I need, to get away, to forget this dream. But a part of me knows that the risk of failure is worth the joy of feeling alive for those few short minutes. I take a step, and remember to smile. The audience sees a young girl in a beautiful dress, confident, ready, and willing to do her part. I know that that same girl, the girl that is me, sees herself as frightened, cowardly, thick-fingered and slow, as she always does just before it begins. But under the terror, there is a beautiful anticipation of those first few notes. The opening applause is like rain, rain on a day when it is falling so hard and fast that the sound covers everything. I grant a graceful smile to those who have applauded. A nod to the conductor, a smile to the concertmaster, and then there is no time to wait. I raise my violin, position my beautiful bow above the metallic strings, and that is all that it takes. Read more »

I know you see me

As I walk by

Appearing 

To be busy, in  rush

Always 

in a rush.

But what you don't know

Is 

That I 

have lost something

Something infinitely more important

than an arm

or leg.

Yet,

If you

See a person

who lost an arm

You hold the door.

If you see the person 

who lost a leg,

you help them stand.

But if

You see someone

Who has lost their friend

Their best friend

To another school,

Why, then,

Do you not

Simply sit with them

At lunch?

January 9

He smiles at me in the hallway. I am surprised and excited, so I rush off.

January 16

He sits next to me at lunch, of his own volition.

January 25

He asks me if I want to go to the football game with him. I say yes.

February 4 

We are almost always together. He walks me to class and to the bus.

February 9

He takes me to the Santa Monica beach. I sit in the sand and draw a heart, with our initials in it. He takes my picture without my knowledge. As I turn to smile at him, a wave washes the heart away.

February 10

I see him with the lead cheerleader, talking.

February 11

I see the duo laughing, as if at a private joke.

February 12

I ask him about it. He says it's a project for school. But they aren't in any of the same classes or clubs.

February 13

I seehim going over to her house. He texts me later, saying that he needs some time.

February 14: Midnight

I break up with him in a text. I am crying. He never replies.

February 14: Afternoon

I go back to the beach where we went together. I say to the waves, "if only I had noticed that little warning...". I say to the sand, "thanks for nothing." I say to myself, "What a fine Valentine's Day this turned out to be."

 See that  beautiful blue butterfly?

By the time you noticed it, 

It was already fleeing to a safer place

Was it a simple butterfly

Or was it a frightened fairy?

Look up at that dark shadow overhead

The one you assumed was a hawk,

Gliding silently in the noon day sun.

It was a predator,

but a bird, or  proud dragon?

Watch the dolphins dance through the salty ocean waves

their tails slicing through the surf,

Was that a blob of floating seaweed,

Or the golden hair of a mermaid?

You''re watching a forest fire, consoling friends

In the midst of the fiery inferno, there is movement

That must have been a few trees falling

Though it looked like the wings of a phoenix

Are these myths truly

the fairytales of the ancients?

Or are they real creatures

Who's very being disputes our modern world?

The front door opened abruptly. A girl ran out into the dreary, rain-filled night. Her laughter made the streetlights seem brighter, and the eerie light that streamed from the windows felt warm and welcoming. She ran out into the middle of the street, laughing. The hems of her jeans dragged on the wet ground under her bare feet. In the center of the road, she stopped, and threw her arms out, as if attempting to embrace the world and everything in it. Then, grinning, she twirled  around, inviting the rain to caress her pale face, to seep between her fingers, before falling to the asphalt below. as abruptly as she had started, she stopped, and fell to the ground, laughing joyfully.

The rain falls outside

Starting soft

gradually

falling faster, with more ferocity

then

it recedes

back to the constant 

drip

drip

drip

I play the violin                                                                                      

                            but lots of people can say that

i enjoy reading

                            though that's often a characteristic of  a writer

I like to laugh

                            most everyone enjoys laughter

I can keep my grades up

                             anyone who can take tests and pay attention can get an A

So what

                makes

                                me

                                           me?

Everything.

                        not my grades

not my laugh Read more »

Can be good

Or bad,

But most often

It’s both.

A growth in society

Leads to new people

With new ideas

It also leads

To more crime

More waste

More problems

A growth of population

Requires more houses

Houses

That cut away

At the flaming mountains

Of the fall.

Or

There could be apartments

Tall buildings

Of people

Families

Pets

Children

Parents

All wanting to live here.

More people

Means more demand

For shopping

Food

Resources.

Those people

Will want to be able

To visit huge malls

And shopping centers

With hundreds of stores

The new buildings

Will cut away

At the landscape.

In Twenty-three years

Vermont

Will be forced to become

More industrial

Forced to create more jobs

For more people

The mountains

From Their lively summer green

To the forbidding winter white

Will remain

But

Will they be

The same?

Everyone 

thinks that moving on

going to highschool

leaving the school

is great

awesome

something to be looked forward to.

For them,

it is a rite of passage

a release from the old

the child

the beginning of growing up.

It is new guys

new life

new excitement.

It is those things

for me, as well...

But for me

highschool is

losing friends

leaving teachers

moving past the innocence

of childhood.

leaving the clowning guys

for lewd ones

leaving the crazy friends

for frightening cliques

leaving the teachers I know and love

for those that are terrifying and strict.

it is my small annoyances

of uniforms and earrings and colored socks

morphing into fears

of what to wear in order to make peole like me

how not to spend the year in a corner

how to find classes,

pass classes,

keep my GPA high,

keep my social life in check,

avoid the 

drugs, and

drinks, and

cigarettes

that highschools are rumored to be dripping with.

it is facing my fears without backup,

without my friends behind me.

it is boy problems

without my walking ditionary of answers.

It is moving on,

college,

graduating,

marriage,

growing up,

growing old,

all in the one word.

it is life

and death

and everything in between.

but i will go on,

make new friends, Read more »

I think of him often

his laughing grin,

is kind words.

always a helping hand to reach

a smile to encourage

what is wrong with me?

she's sad

but more than ever.

she's moody

but more than before.

she writes

but never about joy, or peace.

she sleeps

but it's a fitful one, full of nightmares and fears.

she cries

but only when her tear ducts can no longer hold the pent up flood.

she talks

but not when she needs to,

never when she needs it most.

she sees things

not her dreams of the future, but fears, death everywhere.

i watch

and worry about the consequences of helping

but what are the consequences of

                                                          watching,

                                                                         waiting, Read more »

It starts

A gloomy, gray day

A timpani roll plays overhead

Deep, Menacing, Foreshadowing

The sky darkens

Mother Nature becomes

Angrier

And

Less Controlable

The world takes on an eerie peace

A dangerous silence

Then

Water

Crashing down to Earth

A tsunami

Thunder bellows

Lightning cracks and shatters the sky

Mother Nature

Yells and throws fire

Crying with fury Read more »

That girl you saw

You know the one

The one staring out the window hungrily

The one with eyes that had seen and gone through so much

Only to be defeated again.

The girl you saw

The one you ignored

The one that was begging, hoping, wishing, praying for you to look up

And save her.

The girl you saw

While walking through a bad part of town

The one who was your age

Maybe younger.

That girl was doomed.

Doomed to cater to the wishes of men Read more »