Nonfiction

I felt the coldness of eyes on me. Looking up, I see a boy with chocolate eyes, staring into my soul. My heart skips a beat, but it’s not a good feeling like in the books, no.

In my room, laying in bed, staring at the ceiling late at night, and curled up like a fetus

Been listening to music for a few while now, thinking about things I shouldn’t

I'm watching you lie there, dejected, miserable at your idea of a failure. But it's not a failure if you got impressively high up on the leaderboard, if you got so close to winning but didn't.

the rat is still there

it lurks in the shadows

its claws scratch against the cold stone

the rat persists

it feasts on our true feelings

any sign of our true emotion -

If we can't be one, then we are none.

I wrote this short story poem thing and I really want to make it better but I don't know what to add or fix. Here it is:

The flowers died on a Monday.

The last thing that brought a smile to my lips was a school hallway interaction. A girl who I'd never seen passed me, and gave me the biggest smile. It quite literally felt like sunlight seeping to my core.

One thing that made me stop and wonder these past weeks is power lines, which is weird, I know, but I have a logical question too. Why did they put power lines above ground?

Something that makes me stop and wonder is the thought that everybody sees the world through their own perspective.

The last time I smiled was when I was sitting on my living room floor. I was on my living room floor smiling and laughing with my sister about how I need to get my grades up.

I’ve never believed in coincidences. The idea that things just happen because they happen has never fallen true in my mind. I’m more of an “everything happens for a reason” type of person.

A recluse and a homebody, little entices me to step outside like I do when water falls from the sky. The smell of fresh grass and wet pavement is magic to the senses. But the experience of being surrounded by it all is another.