frustration

it was september 21st today.

i shall never forget the date.

love at first sight does exist

maybe you've never seen me

but you have seen me.

you have seen me without looking.

usually it is the other way around

but somehow you manage.

do you know who i am?

do you know that i pretend that it doesn't matter to me?

do you think i'm just avoiding you

or pretending not to realize you stood me up?

do you realize that i have loved you since i saw you?

i will pretend that it's cool that you have her

but it's not and you finally look at me when i'm confident

but that's when i'm at my worst.

all i ask is that you don't tell.

don't tell them about the love for you that you don't know about

don't tell them that you left me feeling like a fool

don't tell them what happened on september 21.

Oh come on.

What's it now?

She got published again.

Again?

Did I stutter?

Isn't that a good thing?

No. It isn't.

And why would that be?

Because that means I didn't get published.

Well in any case you should be happy for her. It's a great honor to have one's work chosen.

No need to rub it in. I've already had a bad enough day already.

All because of this?

Not entirely, but it didn't help.

Well here's something that should cheer you up: you now know a successful writer!

Aren't you supposed to be on my side?

Think about who you're talking to for a minute.

Alright, I see you point. But just hear me out for a minute.

Fine. You have one minute. Keep it short.

I mean, I write good shit. Every time. Every week. Every prompt I try my hardest. And what happens? Nothing. Nothing happens. My beautiful work gets ignored and instead she gets published. She doesn't even try! That she even told me herself! I don't understand it. Such a cruel and heartless world we must live in.

Are you quite done?

Yes.

Good, because I think it's time I told you a couple things. You're being irrational. Excuse me, not even that. You're acting like a pretentious asshole. That's a bit low, even for you. Read more »

...the way things are between us.

You make me feel guilty.

Because we just sit there

and wait for either of us

to do something interesting.

But when you step out that door

the whole "Honey, I'm home"

attitude is gone.

With the right crowd, you're loud,

and with the same people, I'm loud.

Can we not be loud together?

And you walk away smiling Read more »

i. I walk in strides of supposed perfection, steps of sophistication, and drown myself in rays of destination.  Yet, you can't see my shadow walking three steps behind me.  Sometimes it trips over my body and slows down even more.   Read more »

My mind is always abuzz. I am a writer at heart, but the "actually writing it down" part is what gets me. When I see my works in my head, they are beautiful and heartwrenching and perfect. But when I try to remember those ideas, those phrases, perfect words, perfect flow, those perfect letters coming together in my head, it just comes out smudged and choppy and awkward.

Even with my journal in my lap I fail to let free these thoughts, fail to recreate words that might make sense on paper, I fail, I fail. Read more »

Inspired by GG's post to a link awhile ago:

Mad As Hell! Kinetic Typography from Aaron Leming on Vimeo.

I'm as mad as hell, and I WILL NOT take this anymore!!!! I won't I won't I won't, I swear to you that I will not take this anymore. Read more »

Respect.
It's this thing, you know, that defines all of gravity. It holds us all down on this earth, holds us all down so we don't go flying into our own little self-absorbed orbits.

Well, it's supposed to.
And when we disobey this law of physics,
(or maybe it really has nothing to do with physics in the end)
everything is thrown out of whack.
Everything flies all over the place and crashes down in other peoples front yards and makes us all go crazy, makes us all even more insane than we ever were before. Makes us all lose our minds. Read more »

(Inspired by some of Magzdoodle's pieces...) Read more »

 I don't want to be overly dramatic,

(I know, I know, preventing drama

isn't exactly my strong point) but

I'm angry and I can't express this well because

I'm so angry. It's not as if

this is something new; I can't remember Read more »

Nothing will come
From the pointy end
Of my pencil
Graphite, yes
Words, too
But not the right words
The graphite is just that
Graphite
There’s no imagination
No magic
No sparkle
No heart
It’s just graphite
On notebook paper
Why do they do this
The writing gods
Torment me
Tease me
Put ideas
Floating in the very
Fringe of my brain
Just out of range
Close enough to brush
With my fingertips
But not enough to hold on to
To grab Read more »

My school has a participation-required on-demand writing contest every year. The prompt was two random objects, which varied by classroom. Mine were an icepick and a mortar and pestle. This is what I wrote: Read more »

Some days,
I honestly just have to
wonder what it is
I managed to do
to get life
ticked off enough at me
to do all of this.

Oh, cruel irony–
that's really just
not fair.

I am so sick
Of people
Telling me what
To do.

I don't want to listen.
Stop talking.
I will not listen.

I'm sick of people
Telling me
How to sort the laundry,
When to clear my things off the table,
When to clean my room,
How to manage my time.

I'm just so sick of it all.

So sick of people
Assuming
What I do and don't
Know.

Sick of them telling me
Why to sort laundry
(obviously so the dyes don't mix),
Telling me a stupid story
About a girl that got molested
Then explaining to me
What molesting is
(I'm sixteen-
obviously I already know),
Telling me stupid things
And asking stupid questions
That will obviously never matter.

I'm just so sick of it.

Instead,
Can't you please
Just teach me Latin?

Can't you please
Tell me why we aren't taking action
In Darfur?

Can't you please
Explain to me how everything
Came to be,
How we got here
And why?

Why,
Why,
Why... Read more »

Ranting.
I need to rant - need-

Some people just make everything look so easy, so effortless. Some people make everything look so simple, making me feel hopeless.

I'm frustrated, that's what it is.

How is it so easy for others to feel confident in what they do, all the time? How can people go into a room with strangers and have actual conversations without even thinking about it?

How come I always have to think super long and super hard when I talk? Why do I stutter my words and mumble and why do I slouch (besides my scoliosis)? Why can't I ever stand up straight and speak with confidence? Believe in what I am saying?

No one will listen, no one will believe in me if I show that I do not even believe myself. Read more »

sometimes i just need to be alone
i know this is often hard for you to understand
and i’m sorry
for all the times i pull away
push from you and walk in the other direction
ignoring your voice calling after me
never offering explanation
i don’t do these things to hurt you
and im sorry because i know they do
but sometimes i don’t have time to explain
that i need the silence
before i loose it altogether
i am not simply running from my problems-
i must walk alone to sort them out
and often times the things that are bothering me
have nothing to do with the present place or moment
so please don’t take it personally
when i turn away
and please don’t try to stop me
so i may return to you refreshed

You thank “Him” for success, and excuse “Him” of fault for your failures. Do you really have that little faith in humanity?

We reach out
To friends
To family
To God
To role models

We reach out
Looking for
Security
Hoping for
Safety

We reach out
To people
Who we can't
Talk to in
Person

We reach out
To people who
Won't email us
Back

We reach out
To people we
Get frustrated with
Who get frustrated
With us

We reach out
Hoping they'll
Do the same
Wishing they'll
Put their trust
In us
Like we put ours
In them

We reach out
Even though we
Just know
They'll never
Talk to us
About it

We reach out
So that we
Can be there
In the rare event
They'll open up
And talk to us

We reach out
Even though
They seem to
Reject us
All the time

We reach out

Why?

The tinny sound of someone laughing
Drifts lazily across the room to my ears
And the barely perceptible whispered snatches
Of snide comments are all that it seems I can hear
A flip of bleached hair and the flash of a mirror
Invade my peripheral vision and blur
Just because you have finished before the bell
Doesn't mean that the rest of us don't have work