My Golden Heart

Writing for me is like a river of words flowing out of me. 

Sometimes raging other times calm and slow. 

Other times it is as if the otters living in the river have built a dam. 

Blocking the flow, 

I woke up just like any other day. Get up, get dressed, go to school. It was all normal up until recess. I was on the swing set the first time I saw him. A shadow of a figure that looked. . . like me?

Some days during the last block of school I feel like falling asleep.

Not because I don't care about school. In fact I want to learn,