Oct 24

I Like Potatoes: A True Story

I like potatoes. What can I say? I like them mashed, sliced, even raw sometimes. Potatoes are great. I once had a potato in my kitchen. That potato just sat there for so long. One day I named it. Billy was his name. I brought him upstairs to my room. I would just sit there and talk to this potato. He eventually became known as Billy the Therapist potato. No one knew this but me. On one sad day, my mother came into my room. She saw Billy. I had drawn a little face on dear Billy. My mother thought this was utterly ridiculous. When I got home that day, we had potato soup for dinner. I love potato soup. But after dinner I had gone upstairs to tell my dear Billy about my day… You probably can imagine my horror when I entered my room and Billy was not in his usual place. My mother had fed me my best friend for dinner. I never forgave her. But, I never stopped making little potato friends. One of my creations was a gorgeous rainbow potato. I had loved her very much.
Oct 22

Walking to School

Who was she? 
A random girl walking across the parking lot at work
Obviously she didn’t work there
She was maybe 14 or 15
Walking fast
Head down
Her thumbs hooked onto the straps of her blue bag
The grey sweatshirt that had once been white
Covered in paint and makeup stains
To big for her
Maybe belonging to a boyfriend or parent
She had pulled the strings tight
Shielding most of her face to the wind
The cropped jeans
Showing off most of her shins
Shins littered in goosebumps from the cold
Four tiny little anklets made out of string
If you looked close
You would see that one of them read
In bulky letter beads
She was staring down at her shoes
Old Converse that had been painted in the colors of the rainbow
Paint chips had flaked off
On the toes of the shoes
Potato was written on one
And a small smiley face on the other
Here she was
Oct 16

Car Ride

Both of us were exhausted. Barely enough energy to tell stupid jokes. I got a ton of stuff in the arcade. So much that it gave me an excuse to put it in the seat next to me, leaving me in the middle next to him. We sat in silence for about 10 minutes, a quiet joke here and there. I can't keep my eyes open. He finally turns away from the window to stare at his hands. My hands by my thighs, barley grazing his. You can tell he wants to hold my hand, but I have bigger plans. I tell myself that I'll do it the second the clock changes. 30 seconds couldn't have been slower. The time comes. Like in a cartoon, plop. My head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His bony shoulders dig under my jaw. I sit up. My jaw is sore. It's only been 5 minutes and I can't take being in this position. Jokingly, I tell him, 'your shoulder is so damn bony.' Also jokingly, he says, 'this better?' He slings his arm over my shoulder. I don't know where to put my head.
Nov 14

Worse Than Me

I remember that day
the day I vowed not to cry
I told myself that I would be strong
and that there was no need
I thought that kids out there
had it worse than me
I wasn't wrong
but I wasn't right

some kids are starving
some kids are afraid
some kids are orphans

I had to cook and clean for my abusive step-father
I was afraid to leave the house
I was abandoned by my dad
Do you still think you have had it worse than me?

I don't want you to pity
Just to be aware
Nov 08

The Art of Crying

Tears sting her rosy cheeks. 
She sniffles and wipes away
the river flowing out of her
beautiful brown eyes. Huddled
up in a ball, trying to dissapear
from this world of hate and
jealousy. The bathroom tiles
scattered with stars that
could no longer shine in her
eyes. Hugging her knees to
her chest. Her dark hair 
surrounding her face and
hiding her from the hateful
thoughts of the world. Short
choppy breaths escape her
trembling lips. No where to
run in this world of hate. She
cries and cries because of
the things she cannot change.
Rain drops falling on her ripped
jeans. She cannot stop this 
hurricane, it's not her choice.
The hurtful words, the painful
rumors, they decide when it's 
time to stop. So for now, she 
just keeps letting the tears fall

          and fall
Nov 08

I don't know what this is...


Bananaman and it is the bomb. Our tree is like, i don't know. I think it's like a thousand feet? No, i think it's 500. You can like make them look like zombies.

Thats good. It's less than a second for ecah one.

*randomly says noot*

7.1 seconds!

Andre just loves to brag

I'm good at school. I'm bad at life.

*cough cough, brag brag*

Are you a good typer?

Ya i'm a good sniper

No, typer

Oh, i dunno. I landed in risky reels.

*starts singing We Know The Way*

Now i'm gonna do that


Hello andre. Earth to andre. Are you ever gonna say somthing. Andre! ANDRE! DO YOU KNOW DE WAY? Hi. I SPEAKA TO YOU! Andre you need help



I SPEAKA TO YOU!!!!!!!!!! Girija, youa spooka me
Nov 08

Being Bi

I am not confused.
I am not going through a phase.
I am not experimenting.
I am not half gay.
I am not half straight.

I do not need to change.
I do not need to make up my mind.
I do not need to date a girl.
I do not need to hide it.
I do not need to be afraid.
I am bi-sexual.
I can love girls or boys.
I am queer.
I can show my pride.
I am proud of who I am.

Nov 07

Field Hockey Inside Jokes

We are like sisters, best friends, and teammates rolled into one. But what other teams don't have that we do, are inside jokes.
  • CLAIRE LIKES CARROTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • NED + FRANK + AL
​Ah the good ole days... I'm gonna miss you girls. Until next season!
Nov 06

Gun Violence

It's not the guns
It's the people
He be praying from the
Top of that steeple
Praying for the lives
Of all of them people
Who weren’t
Treated like an equal

Now they be sayin
Bannin our protection
Cuz they afraid
Of that misconception
People being scared
Of someone’s misdirection
I know we need peace
But this is an infection

Breakin out the big guns
Maybe that's the wrong word
Maybe just the big ones
Just tryna be heard
They thinkin they won
Just tryna have fun
To be number one
But they threats being blunt
They think they be safe
Their spirits in space
Try to look brave
But you run out of faith

It's not the guns
It's the people
Treat others like they equal
It's not the guns
It's the people
Is an equal
Oct 24

Losing My Mind

The sound of the clock
   Wasting the hours away

For what pleasure do I owe
    To you
    To me
    For the wonder of this stay

Where are you going?
    Come back
    Were you even here at all?

The dark oak whispers
    Its song
    Its cry
    A emotion of feeling too small

Where are my children?
    My love
    My flowers
    My sweet honey bee

Where have they gone?
    So far
    All because of me?

Deep tracks in the snow
    To follow
    Not follow
    Ground buried deep

Wind on a mountain
    Blowing soft
    On the top
    Of the mountain so steep

Can darkness turn
    To light?
    To hope?
    To anything other than emptiness?

Can the light run
    As fast as
    The clouds?