rant

There is a great and terrible feeling behind manipulating people.

The feeling of power sinks into your skin,

as you make up a story on the spot,

and watch as it then becomes part of their reality.

By lying I can make my make-believe other people’s reality.

If I cannot live in the world I so yearn for

then at least they can live there for me

and respond to me as if my world was real.

I keep forgetting that I am a different person now.

Changes and memories blurred by another year passing.

I have to remind myself I am not the same person, and neither are you. 

And when I saw you again, I lost my breath and my voice for a minute. Trying to breathe and not let the memories write themselves all over me. 

I was able to shake out of that dazed phase, but why did I keep trying to be that other girl? I am not her anymore.

You aren't the same. You don't love me anymore. Did you ever really?

You aren't mine to keep, to hold, to love anymore. I have to let you go, from this cage I hold deep within my heart. 

I just want my bestfriend, my other half, my first love back whispering sweet melodies into my ear.

I want your smooth voice to reassure me I am perfect. 

I keep forgetting that I am a different person now, and that you too, are also a different person now.

I am gripping onto this past that should have harmed me more than done good, but looking back all I see is how happy she was. That girl who had everything in a dazed and perfect reality.

Now I see an unknown future of a different girl and in your eyes, another ex. 

You don't care I bet. 

I can't hold onto this fairy tale story anymore.

I keep forgetting that I am a different person now. And that you aren't my protection anymore. You aren't here anymore. You aren't mine to love, and you got over us long, long ago. Read more »

At night when I'm laying in my bed, face in my pillow, I breathe in and for a second I can smell you. I get a whiff of that cologne you wore that I always told you how much I loved. I can feel your fingers running through my hair once more telling me that, "yes you are good enough," and that "everything will be okay." I can hear your promises to love me forever, to never leave.I breathe in, bringing in all of our memories with it; the night I fell asleep to the steady movement of your chest moving up and down with each breath you took, the time we watched the sun go down and take all of our cares and worries with it, the times we had so much love that we didn't know what to do with it. But just as soon as I breathed in and caught a glimpse of the love that used to be, I breathe out again and once more our memories are just memories, stored away to be later forgotten. The memories are gone, gone with you, and the forever we were supposed to last until. 

          After a long time of boredom in school I somehow stumbled upon this little beauty, Animoto. Animoto as I found, is a website where you can create advertisements. Upon further inspection I found that for free you can make 30 second comercials (the length of a TV comercial). Of course being myself, I began to talk to myself:

"Wow wouldnt it be cool if everyone on YWP made their own comercial for their writting?"

"Whoooooooa! Dude that would be amazing!"

"It would totally be epically disasterously amazing!"

"Like bowties!"

"Yesssssssssssssss!"

"Let us tell the people of YWP of this idea!"

"Ahead of you,"

"Mind. Blown. Poof."

         So, how cool would that be? For us to make videos of our writting to help inspire ourselves, others, and even just possibly help get your work 'Out There' here on YWP?

         Of course this is just a pitiful idea.... but I want to know what you guys think about it! I made a quick one as an example, all of the photos I have made myself. Hope you like it and to hear back from you!

  Read more »

It's hard to take in all the words. 

Between the compliments and putdowns to all the inbetweens. 

I am stuck with all the bad things said to me, those unsweet melodies spoken not sung. 

Those words echo through my head. Spin my head into circles and control me.

Make me tell myself I am ugly. Such a simple word with layers and layers of pain wrapped into one simple word. 

I am beyond unfixable is what I am analyzing from these melodies. 

I just tell myself what everyone else tells me. The little remarks that people say that they don't think will hurt.

They will stick to me forever. Shaped my life in a way. 

Tricked my mind into a foggy vision. Make me silence myself and give myself up to them.

And at first they are just people. But when you take a closer look, lean in, and peel back the layers, you see what they really are.

Bullies. 

I don't use that word lightly, but when you see it, you can't help but think that. And it's all so haunting because it's the truth.

In this advancing world we live in, we are pulled back by all these people. 

Each and every one of us. 

Now that's a nightmare wrapped in a silenced bottle. 

Dearest mirror,

It's not your fault-- honestly, it all started with Snow White. Well, the Evil Queen and her vanity, really. We read these  tales to our children, consequently taking away their innocence. But I suppose Disney didn't help at all... want to marry your true love? Congratulations! Now give up your mermaidness, and essentially completely change who you are. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all? Someone prettier than you? Just send someone to kill them-- it'll solve all your problems! Oh, but it's all good, because you care enough to keep her heart! And then there's Barbie, and Bratz, and the countless other insanely stereotypical dolls that we give to our kids, causing eating disorders and body image issues. Roses are red, violets are blue, girls get Hello Kitty Valentines, boys get Toy Story and Star Wars! Happy Valentine's Day, kids!

You see, Mirror, society is the only one to blame.

Sincerely,

Suicide, Anorexia, Bulimia, Bullying (etc.), and Tears

I have a writing enrichment. We go on to this site and write. But people in my class are using the chat messaging to talk to their friends instead of writing. They also talk to random people and try to say funny things. It really bothers me because it's not fair for them to abuse a system that's meant for the benefit of us. I don't know if anyone else feels this way But I sure do. I like getting feedback on my writing but it really makes me upset when people just use chat to literally chat with there friends about things that don't even have to do with writing.

One day it'll be too late to say sorry.

They'll be gone.

You'll be a murderer.

You may not have physically done any damage,

but words pack as much a punch as a fist.

Think before you speak.

I tell myself that I am better than you. That you can't break me. 

I tell myself I'm not broken, just a little bent. 

But you push me down and swallow me into a place I am trapped in. This untouchable place where walls trap me.

Heavy breathing and warm tears instantly try to choke me up even more, you take pleasure at this.

You remind me of all my wrongs, all the words left unsaid, and all the pain buried deep within me.

You keep fighting with me and I am helpless.

Where is my knight in shining armor now? Where is my prince with promises kept and secrets shared to catch me?

You just remind me what I hate to tell myself.

He is gone. He isn't there. He never was there for you.

I feel dizzy with all this coming to my head.

Every second, every moment wrapped into my head until I can barely breathe.

But I tell myself I am fine.

You are like blue foxgloves, a figment of my vivid imagination.

You don't exist, you are simply me. 

Telling myself why I am so imperfect. It's all in my head. It's all just my vivid imagination. 

Nature is beautiful, the flowers and things. The pretty birds, the cute little animals. But did you know that under that soft sweet layer is the heart of nature. Vultures peck at rotting corpses, lions devour their prey. Not only animals suffer, humans get bitten, doomed to die. I know we can find cures in the rainforest, if we aren’t swallowed alive. Death and decay are the basis of nature, but there is a good side, wait there’s not. So next time you say “Save the rainforest”, remember, it won’t save you.

 I wish to bring back chat. It was so fun. Bring it back!

BRING BACK CHAT! BRING BACK CHAT! BRING BACK CHAT! BRING BACK CHAT! BRING BACK CHAT! BRING BACK CHAT! BRING BACK CHAT!

I was listening to a song called Breakdown by Jack Johnson. I'm on a site called Pandora which is an interenet radio and I have a station I like to listen to called "Jack Johnson Radio". This station plays man of his songs and other artists with the same type of musical genre. I've heard this song quite a lot on there and every time it comes on it gets me thinking. The lyrics say, "I need this old train to break down, oh please just, let me please break down". I really am not sure if this is a happy, sad, or just neutral song. It also says, "I hope this old train breaks down then I could take a walk around and, see what there is to see" which makes me think of the saying, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't look aroundonce in a while, you could miss it." (Matthew Broderick, in Ferris Bueler's Day Off). My perception of this song is that life is moving so fast that I wish I could take a break and look at all the beauty I'm missing while being so soaked up into things thta don't really matter. 

The rain,

you can see

the rain.

You can

see how it

sparkles

in the

light of my

window.

The rain,

you can hear Read more »

“No!” I screamed.

But you just laughed and left.

Left me forever.

To the howling wind.

And the painful memories.

Of whom we used to be.

For it was not just you that changed.

I write all of this down hurriedly, biting my favorite pencil.

I want to scream at you.

To bite and kill you.

But my words, teeth, and knife just slash through the air.

Because you’re not there to feel the pain.

My pain.

My endless, physical, mental pain.

I slam down the rolling on my counter, and walk around and sob.

‘Cause you’re not there to comfort me.

I go out in the bleak dark world, trying to find you.

I hear your voice laughing at me.

Then suddenly panicked, as you tell me to run, to get away from you.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you say.

But I don’t care what you do to me as long as I have the old you back.

But I don’t.

Never will.

You’re a maniac.

An insane crazed maniac.

I’ll try to find you help.

But you don’t want help.

You want to claw me.

To scratch, bite, pinch, and slap, even kill me!

But dying would be better than this.

This ugly pain.

Please, just take my heart.

Dispose of it so that I may not ever feel again.

It's an interesting thing, ignorance. It's more of a choice than a condition. Obsolete ideas are clung to because people are afraid of questioning their beliefs. They're afraid of considering the unknown, or afraid to understand certain problems because then they have no choice but to act. I see it all the time. I have witnessed conversations in which someone clings to an idea or a system, no matter how disproved their key points were. Some people just can't bear to progress, because progress means change, and change can be unsettling. This is a problem. Not only because it hinders progress, but it allows corruption TO progress. If we choose to ignore our problems, immediate or long term, they will only grow in strength and size. Ignorance is bliss, but it is also destruction. That does not mean bliss is destruction, as counterintuitive as that may sound. Bliss can be achieved, but as the saying goes " it's gonna get worse before it gets better." With social, economic, environmental, and foreign issues, as a nation, we cannot afford to be ignorant and uninformed. With the internet, we have a virtually unlimited source of knowledge at our fingertips. We also are lucky enough to have the right to free speech, when some cannot say as they are censored and suppressed. Read more »

I don't want a perfect house or swimming pool in the back

I don't care if half of the place is falling down, if my room has the infestation of little flying ants

that invade our kitchen every year. Because those holes in the wall can be patched up.

I just want a warm comforter with a flannel cover that takes in heat in a second.

I want to come home and breath out

not come home and hold my breath

and tiptoe up to my room

the one room in the house that the heat can't reach

because my door is always closed.

I'm glad no on can see my face when I walk up the stairs

in the middle of dinner

because from the kitchen table all you can see are my heels

carefully avoiding the stair that creeks

second from the top.

I leave because I can't fight.

I think it'd be nice to, though.

I want to feel that duck tape from skin feeling of shouting

swearing in the way swears are meant to be used Read more »

The bombing was evil. Vile. Shocking. We're standing stunned, raw, vulnerable, our sense of security breached and brought crashing down upon us once more, leaving our shells broken and bloodied. Until we get all better and lapse back into our lulling safety and forget. Until next time. But, you know, there's another place called Somewhere Else. You know all about it, your parents told you about it when you wouldn't finish the hated slimy foreign food on your plate. You have to eat it because there are children starving Somewhere Else. They told you about it when you whined because you wanted that expensive toy and they told you to be grateful for what you have because Somewhere Else there are poor little children who can never ever afford any toys at all, ever, in all their lives. Somewhere Else is where that earthquake hit, or the tidal wave that's decimated the city, leaving survivors to wander among the wreckage of their lives, and Somewhere Else is where those people were killed for the wrong skin or the wrong religion, and you know what? Somewhere Else, tonight, there have been lots of bombs going off, or even if there haven't been today, everyone is squeezed in a fist of fear that won't let them draw a full breath, a tight iron-gripped fist belonging to a looming, shadowing giant named This Is My Reality. Every day, hundreds are killed in these explosions. Innocent. Babies, children, Mama and Papa, maybe even Grandma doesn't come home tonight because someone decided for whatever reason to set off another explosion. Read more »

Maybe it’s the pain and the death

Or perhaps it’s the unfairness

I hate so much Read more »

I don’t

Know what to do

Because nothing ever changes

No matter the tragedies all over the world

I’m sick

To my very core

Knowing these people have died

And for what? What is it that has caused this?

What cause

Could possibly be worth this?

A parent who doesn’t have a child to cheer on,

A student waiting for a friend that will never finish the race Read more »

I walked down the endless hallway to my new destination. What would be next on my agenda? A lot of things have been going on and I never know what I have in store for my days. Coming out wasn’t the easiest thing in my life and it won’t be as I become more comfortable with new people, which may sound odd. Some people think it’s a big deal but others don’t, I believe in the in between. It can be hard in some situations more than others. But now it feels like I have entered a new universe, I don’t know anyone here, and I barely know the area. I moved here not too long ago, to start a new life, kind of restarting and hopefully it’s for the better. It has been really hard though leaving people I love behind, even the one special to me. This girl knows about it and it was really hard leaving. Before I left the days counting down grew harder and harder. She thinks that its hard for her, well its even harder for me. Read more »

Something that really scares me is the Harlem Shake. The music really scares me because it’s basically some psycho saying “baa baa baa babaababababa do the Harlem Shake!” It’s not even that scary. It’s just so strange that it freaks me out. The other part that scares me is he fact that the only thing people do to dance to it is really random stuff. like flopping around in a sleeping bag or humping the air in a motorcycle helmet. What are you thinking as you are doing this people?  I just don't understand it. It’s just so strange. That’s why it scares me.

Love is a contradiction. Everything felt is a curse. To love is to destroy. Yet, nothing seems to stop us from uttering those words of commitment, of passion, of longing, of pain. Clutching to any sole bit of beauty we can find in someone, we create a false feeling for whoever we see. And that false feeling drives us to insanity. It drives us through hell, and then when we return we are nothing. Just prisoners feeling some type of desire that is created because we have to need someone in our lives. We have to need one person for our entire lives, and even if there is life after death, we will still need them. To need is not to love. To love is to destroy all that we have ever learned. We will change because of that burning desire, change into things we could never have thought were possible. Read more »

  Are there people who just get on your nerves? Like really obnoxious people? I'd bet a lot of money that there are. In my grade, there's this really annoying girl, named Skylar.

    A couple months ago, my friend had some problems with Skylar saying her and her friends received rude emails from her that she didn't send. This lasted a few days then stopped. They made up, Skylar said it had been a mistake. She said she was wrong about who sent the emails.

    They had a friend in common, Amethyst. One day we were walking to lunch after chorus and Amethyst told us something very important: Skylar and her friends went up to the music teacher and told her that Gwen had sent mean emails to them. Read more »

  Are there people who just get on your nerves? Like really obnoxious people? I'd bet a lot of money that there are. In my grade, there's this really annoying girl, named Skylar.

    A couple months ago, my friend had some problems with Skylar saying her and her friends received rude emails from her that she didn't send. This lasted a few days then stopped. They made up, Skylar said it had been a mistake. She said she was wrong about who sent the emails.

    They had a friend in common, Amethyst. One day we were walking to lunch after chorus and Amethyst told us something very important: Skylar and her friends went up to the music teacher and told her that Gwen had sent mean emails to them. Read more »

One of the most disgusting things in the world is chocolate covered ants. Like really think about it. It’s an insect that lived in the sand. Also it gets clean and they put chocolate all over the ants. But the question is do they kill the ants or do they get them dead. Gross! It’s an insect not food.

Boogers are so disgusting. First, it comes out of your NOSE! If something comes out of any hole in your body it has to be disgusting. Second, it’s so gross it can be written about to respond to this prompt “dislike- write about something that disgusts you no matter how wrong, distasteful, or awkward it is.” So that means BOOGERS are REALLY discugsting. Third, there made out of dust and mucus. Mucus it this thick icky green stuff that is in your body. That’s discugsting. In summary, boogers are the most discugsting thing ever. 

When your teacher calls you out in front of the whole class

Embarrased

When you sit on a piece of food and it sticks to your butt untill two hours later when your friend finally decides to comment on it

Embarrased

When you wear the same exact outfit or shirt as someone else

Embarrased

When you randomly laugh and everyone looks at you like your crazy because someone else was talking about they're grandmas funeral.

Embarrased

When your sister gets the last laugh

Mad

When you accidentally stepped in dog poop on the way to the bus and everyone smells it for the rest of the day

Embarrased

When you forget to wear clothes to school 

Embarrased

 Expelled

Why? Why do you do what you do?  I didn't do anything to hurt you.  so why?  Why i ask, why?  Everytime you come around I feel your presence and I am scared.  You cut slashes through me.  I shouldn't care what people say.  But you, you constantly barade me with words of how insignifigant I am, or how ugly, or stupid I am.   I try to just stay away, but you follow me...  I try to run from the pain but you chase after me throwing sharp darts into may back as I run.  When I feel you tap my shoulder I know the darts are about to come.  I can only run so long with darts stuck deep in my back.  Soon I will fall, and when I do you will laugh and then kick me while I'm down.  You don't know me, so why?  Why?  Why do you think you can hurt me?  I am strong.  But even the strongest cannot withstand constant battering forever.   Why?  Why did you choose me?  Why do you think that my life needsto be worse?  Why do you think its fun to stab me and watch the blood pour out?

Hello ladies and gentlemen, adults, adolescents, and children; greetings world! Please listen to what I am about to say because it is very important that you do.

I am not the typical person, Im a second degree black belt and one area that I struggled with was standing up for me. So when I first moved here from south west Florida, with a heavy southern accent, a unique type of family, and a different way of dressing (or as I say, unique) I was bullied a lot. Yes its true, a black belt being bullied can actually happen. I have the integrity of not using my skills to hurt people unless needed be, in other words if they laid a single finger on me I would go at it. I was harassed, threatened with knifes, and they threatened to hurt my family. I was terrified, for the first three months of it happening I didn’t tell anyone. Instead I took out my feelings on my writing, I ended up writing a poem called Bully and posted it to this site. At the time I was a new writer and to my surprise they broad casted it on VPR, that’s when everyone found out what was going on in school and why I was acting strange. I got really depressed and resulted to cutting myself instead of getting the help I needed. My school didn’t do anything to help me until my family threatened to sue them. I am no longer a victim, I am a survivor. Read more »