The sky is gray.
The water, calm.
It's times like this 
When the world
is at peace.

There is something about 
the mysteriousness of water
that intrigues me.
So dangerous but
alluring.
To jump in and yet
be so uncertain of 
what's at the bottom.
It'd kind of poetic,
a bit similar to life itself.

Little honey bee
so frail but also precious
fly high little bee.

Sometimes I feel like a leaf floating along the water.
Things are peaceful, until the current picks up.
Life gets rocky, uncertain. 
But I know eventually it will calm down,
and I will be able to go back to my much more
simple life. 
 

I think I'm lost.
Actually, I think I always have been.
My entire life I have spent being a person for everyone; 
Each a different version of who they all wanted me to be.
A good friend,
A perfect daughter, 
The best student.
And finally, after all these years,
It's taken a toll on me. 
I don't know who I am anymore. 
I've hit so many wrong bumps
I'm afraid that there will never be any rights.
I've been walking on eggshells,
Yet I never noticed until now. 
How will I know who I truly am if I keep trying to please everybody I encounter?
I won't.
So who am I?
I guess I'm going to find out. 
 

Because I am graduating this year it finally hit me that I'd have to leave and I had a crisis about it, so I wrote this.

I used to be embarrassed to say that I am from Winooski. 
I would lie, hide, do whatever I could to disguise it.
And point out every flaw I could to try to distance myself if I was ever found out. 
Now,
As we are honing in on these last few months,
Where soon I will actually have to leave,
I don't want to. 
It has recently dawned upon me how much this school and community has had an impact on who I am and who I will become once my tassel goes right to left and I exit these doors once and for all.
So I suppose I'm writing this as a thank you. 
Thank you to the student body, teachers, administration, everybody that has seen me cry and heard me say hundreds of times that all I want to do is fail and drop out, but then taking me over and over, and helping me succeed. 

September 5th, 2018
    I wake up early in the morning and glance over toward the clock, whose blue light shines onto the wall like something in an alien world, apparently, I was only asleep for a few hours, it’s 7:49 a.m. I slump out of bed and slink right over to the shower, then strip down for the huge crowd of toiletries in the bathroom and hop into the tub as soon as the water gets as hot as possible, because the Lord knows I am not hot enough alone.
    I really indulge every time I take a shower because I never want it to end. It’s not that I really enjoy the shower. It’s that I just can’t stand that feeling of stepping out of a hot shower into that cold morning air. Still, I figure just like anything else, there’s always a painful aspect to it.
    “Charlotte?” my mom hollers out from downstairs.
    “Yes, Mother?”
    “Come on, it’s time to go! You’re going to  be late!”

I
Am afraid.
And the worst part is
I don’t even know what I’m afraid of.
Is it failure?
Is it inadequacy?
Or am I simply just afraid of myself?
Of being stuck in this hell hole that is my head.
I
Do not
Know,
I just
Need it to
Stop.
Because I also do not know
How much more
I can take.

 

The wind whistling through the trees was her scream.
As her body lay limp on the cold forest floor.
It wasn't supposed to end like this.
It wasn't supposed to end like this,
Not for her.
 

My name is my name,
but also not at the same time.
I have removed myself
from the Re- it does
not suit me anymore.
Rebekkah was afraid.
Bekkah is empowered
And even if you can’t say it,
At least spell it right.
I don’t care if it’s a habit-
it is not who I am.

 

**This is an excerpt from a short story I'm writing**
    
    I walk into the living room cautiously, one cup of hot chocolate with extra mini marshmallows in my left hand, and one cup of black coffee filled to the rim in my right.
    “You’re such a pro, Charlie,” Eli says jokingly, trying to make me lose my focus.
    “Fuck off, Nichols,” I shoot back, making baby steps toward the coffee table in the middle of the room.
    “I’d rather not, thanks though,” he says as I place both mugs down carefully. I roll my eyes at him and he grins.    
    “Can we just get this over with?” I ask, “You should know by now that I hate Christmas, so the fact that I even said yes to helping you decorate your tree, not to mention on a day where I could be sulking in my room, means you’re extra lucky,” I continue, making sure to add drama to my voice.
 

She laid beautifully,
Her long blonde hair cascading down her back in a way like no other.
And that long silk robe covering more flesh than not.
She was art.
But not the type of art you see in museums where you say 'wow' and move on,
No,
She was the art that made you feel something.
That odd sensation in your chest that makes you think you're going to explode.
So your breath hitches and your face heats up and your palms start to sweat so your mind goes blank like it's the end of the world.
She,
Was art.
But I'm sure that was only to me.

I am afraid.
I am afraid to love.
I am afraid to love because when I love I give everything I've got,
and most of the time my heart ends up becoming bruised and battered.
But wait,
What's this?
Who's he?
Why am I no longer surrounded by the darkness that used to consume me? 
I am no longer afraid.
I'm not sure how,
But the chain link fence that was wrapped tightly around my heart has been torn down.
I am shocked,
yet in some way,
He made me,
No
Longer
Afraid.