"Everything is in place! All we need is people to come and yell 'Surprise!'"  The last piece of tape was holding the  Happy Birthday banner up and it swung over Holly's beaming face. 

"The lights won't turn on" That made sense, since it was raining really hard and the power went out 

"It's fine, there are some flashlights in the closet" I reply as Becky rummages through the closet. 

"Nope." 

"We can have candles." Becky pulls out eight candles and a matchbox. She lights the candles, and laughs: "This looks like a romantic date, why don't we just scatter rose petals by the doorway!"

"'Cause then Asha will trip on them and break her leg, And while she's in the hospital, being sad about missing her party, I will be eating her cake."
Holly says, a little too excitedly

"Hey!" Talia says, walking through the door with a huge box "Share some cake with me!"
 

(This is a sprout of ameliajane's All The Things I Can See. I tried to make it the opposite. This person is an extrovert)

I don't let them stop and question,


My motive or my direction,


Not because of suspension


Or because of the atteniton.




It's a thrill, a whirl,
I am the sun that they orbit around
I can talk
I know everyone, everywhere
I say "hi" almost anywhere.

Those are the things I love
Giggles turning into cackles 
Because I don't care.
Nothing slows down or goes on a loop.
I don't stick to my own group.
My comfort zone has been left so many times,
Maybe I forgot to lock the door behind me.
I don't care, I run free.

It would be hard to keep to myself.
I would be a puppet
Lying limp.
But I'm not because It's OK
To be me

Just let me be me, 
I’m happy, 

Hot. Cold. Laughing. Crying. Light. Deep.
A flickering light.That never shuts off. That's me.

 

The subway rattles and we sit down. 14 stops ahead of us-we have plenty of time. I look up to see a delicate lady with pale skin, long red-brown hair with streaks of gray in it and the bluest eyes. She pulled a silver 6s phone with no case out of her leather bag. My eyes go down , so she doesn't think I'm staring at her and I see her gray fur coat covering a thick plaid wool dress. Although, her apperance is very mature, she has a youthful look to her. 3 stops have passed and I have given no more thought to the woman. I look up again to see the very same woman, but instead she is wearing a long blue coat, with a  thick wool shawl that is green and blue plaid and long wool pants. Her bag is different and she pulls out a rose-gold 6s without a case. Wait, what? Slowly I realize that these indentical ladies are indentical twins. They laugh and talk and smile. I just can't peel my eyes away from them! Finally the 14 stops shrink to 2 and I have to say goobye to the unusual pair.

I can see it. The peak of womanhood. That long road ahead, is now only two steps.


I don't dare turn back, childhood is behind me. No more foolishness.


I sit at the stool, being careful of my posture. After all, I am a woman in a couple hours.


The best painter, Jean-Étienne Liotard has come to paint my portrait.


There is nothing more than I'd rather do on my 15th birthday than sitting down and not move for hours.


No more play. After all, I am a woman now.


 
 

It's a boring car trip, just listening to Ariana Grande and occasionally singing along to it. The three of us sit there, six eyes. A pair on the road, a pair glued to their phone and one pair in their own world. As I start to recognize the surroundings, I happily roll down my window. (Of course, first I have to take my hair out of its usual ponytail and let it flow dramatically in the wind.) My cousin puts down her phone and rolls her window down as well. 
There is a hint of the salt water marsh in the wind. I let out a little squeal. Before we know it, we are both laughing hysterically with our mouths wide open. It was the wind. It made us insane. My uncle speeds up and we are zooming into the wind, laughing and squealing. By the time we get out of the car, we can't stand up straight. The wind has made us so loopy that we stay that way for the rest of the night. 
Now, we roll our windows down every time we drive past that salt marsh.
 

A vivid image, created in your mind while you are asleep
but your mind isn't asleep

the tapestry it is weaving, tells a story of 
anything to everything

whether you have been hit in the head
with the nightmare's horseshoe

or if you have been
giggling in your sleep, 

it is all dream 
 

All the greatest writers kick and scream.
Hazy, dark images start to focus
Their quiet suffering is now howling in
Capital letters.

They faced the dark and poetry turned 
The light switch 
And we watched in silence,
Changing from the violent beating of words

The pain, like lopsided calligraphy 
The scars, they now smile at
Their poetry is loved
Why? 

Because only your deepest feelings 
Is where the deepest 
Writing is from
Sometimes you learn the hard way

 

I feel alive when i 
wake up with the sun on a cool day
when my face turns rosy and 
when the wind cant catch up to me
when laughter plays on a broken record
repeating 
the wind howls with our laughter 
and my nose is red, but 
my forehead is pink
 i feel alive 
when i cant stop laughing,
and icy excitement runs through me.