Theres a fire burning inside me
Fearing the light of day
It is distroying the likes of me
I am not the one to blame

I can't be everything you expected me to be
Everything is pressed on me
And I can only wonder
How much can gravity pull

The burden of ones shoulders
can be sometimes more then one can take.
The burden of ones shoulders
can be sometimes more then a fake.

Im burning from the inside out
The damage is almost done.
Figuring out what ignited the fire
But the damage has already won.

I'll burn until Im out.
I'll peel away the skin.
The scars will show the damage
Expect of whats within.

Trembling finger tips
and this burning decay
asking god why is this
Am I ment to be this way

The prayers keep flowing
The fire keeps growing
Soon it will take me
Gravity will take me

No ones listening

            The Lunch room is always hectic. Not enough seats and too many teenagers. Clicks fill tables over maximum capacity. People littered throughout the entire room. I grab my tray and milk and proceed out to the benches. Beryl and Ashley are already there. Ashley talks her head off and Beryl eats her food. Beryl occasionally glances up and nods to reassure Ashley she is paying attention.

            “Hey May!” Ashley shouted as if I was across campus.

            “How was your summer?” I replied
            “Well California was a blast, Mexico is overrated but I went to the best spot anyways!” She continued on but I practiced my selective hearing just like Beryl. The entire lunch was just Ashley talking about her incredible summer. We all knew she really didn’t do all those things, maybe it was just me and Beryl. Ashley was quite convinced of her self. The thing is, Ashley has gone to her father’s house in Connecticut every summer since I could remember. She was quite the spontaneous liar. It’s always anything to make herself look better for the moment.

            School couldn’t have ended any sooner. It was like time flew through my finger tips, and kept flowing. It’s a good thing I suppose. The bus ride was casual. I went home, did my chores, read a few chapters from Macbeth and crawled in my bed.

            I had been so worked up from the day. My mind was still trying to process all the components of school. I had forged my mother’s signature on all my syllabuses, I had listened to Ashley’s fib, given Beryl my coat, and talked to a boy. I wish I had not screwed it up. I just had the imprint of my smile underneath my eyelids. I tossed and turned and rested my heads between my fingers. I wish sleep could come quicker.

            As if the morning wouldn’t have gotten colder then the day prior, the frost of the bus stop was bitter. Beryl had my only clean coat and my hair was still damp. I was trembling uncontrollably. The bus had evidentially been delayed.  I was truly thinking my hair would freeze and just break off if I simply touched it. I wondered how much less attractive I would be without hair.

            Alas, the bus arrived. Most of the seats were empty. Moms and Dads must have given their kids rides. It was colder on the bus then outside. I barely dropped my binder on my fingers and it sent splintering sensations up my wrist. Starting to hate the cold, I cupped my hands and blew in warm air.

            When the bus finally got to school the bell had already rang. The bus driver had not even called the school to excuse the late. The snobby office secretary looked up from the monitor and glared over her pointed red glasses. She waited for me to speak.

            “I’m here to sign in,” I shyly spoke. I waited for awhile and started to speak, “should I just-“

            “Your late,” She boldly interrupted.

            “My bus had been delayed,” I was uneasy with her tone and vibe. She resumed working at her computer. I shifted to the other foot. It was about a minute and I thought she forgot about me. I was about to turn around and she spoke out.

            “There is no message of a delayed bus route on the system. This late will be unexcused,” she glowered at me, wrote me a late note with unexcused circled too many times. She flashed a fake smile at me that made me wince as I took the note from her hand. My fingers brushed hers and it was clammy and cold. It suited her well.

            The hallway was empty. It’s amazing how it goes from being packed over limit to deserted within 5 minutes. When I turned the corner the boy from yesterday was talking to another student. The other student was scrubby, I knew he was a stoner, and had been in and out of juvenile hall. They seen me coming and nodded their heads and walked separate directions. Charles smiled and waved to me. Blushing, I waved back and nearly tripped. I guess I can’t do the simple multitask of waving and walking.

            The day was normal from there forth. I was just thinking about 4^th period and thinking about Charles. I wonder if he will talk to me again. He most likely already doesn’t know my name. He has to already be annoyed by me. He was just being nice to me in the hall by waving. I just let my mind wonder from a good thing to something worse and worse. I don’t understand how I can do that to myself. It’s fun to daydream. The only problem with daydreaming is that my dreams mostly turn into nightmares.

            Beryl was there waiting for me where the bus drops us off. She smiled in silence as I treaded [shuffled?} my feet down the steps. “Good morning Beryl” I sighed. She said something to low to hear then cleared her throat.

            “G-g-good morning M-May,” she replied. She was shivering from the below freezing [sub-zero?] air. “How was your weekend?” I handed her my sweat shirt, I had body fat so I would be okay.

            “Same old, same old, I finished my new book,” I yawned. Reading was kind of my thing. I never actually seemed to remember much of the books I read after I started another. I couldn’t quote from Romeo and Juliet, and I couldn’t tell you what happens in the 10^th chapter of Catcher and the Rye even though I’ve read them only read them a gazillion times. It makes me feel stupid.

            Class doesn’t start for 20 minutes so most students just hang out by their cars and smoke pot, cigarettes, and whatever else is cool these days. I’m not one of them though. Maybe I would be if they liked me. Who am I kidding, I would be. I’m 17 years old and I have never had a boyfriend. I’ve never even had a truth or dare kiss for Christ sake. There was one party in 5^th grade I almost did, but the other boy made a fuss so I quickly tried to gather the same feeling and acted like I was appalled. Really I wasn’t. Jenny knew I liked him. She was the one who dared him. I miss Jenny. She basically all together abandoned me after she grew boobs and started hanging out with older guys. She’s pregnant and a drop out though now. Maybe we could have been friends again if she went to school.

            My school is not big. There are around 500 students. There would be more but everyone seems to be getting pregnant these days and dropping out. How can they come this far and then just give up? At least finish the damn 2 years and then you don’t have to go back. I mean it’s not like you need to go to college after words. I always think about college. It’s the future, and I want to be away from this time I’m in. Not that I have my future set ahead of me. I can’t see myself doing anything right. I’ll most likely just become some public librarian for children. Die old, alone, and with 26 cats. Maybe 27.

            The bell rang and everyone scattered in different directions. I pulled out my schedule to read again. I had looked over it a few times. The first class on the list was Mr. Many. He is ancient. I’m surprised he doesn’t have Alzheimer’s or blindness. I entered the door and turned to say goodbye to Beryl but she was already gone. Kids were held up by my action and I quickly headed to the back of the class. The girls settled in with their lip gloss shining and clicking of French nails on cell phones.

            “Welcome to the exciting world of geometry,” Mr. Many sighed,” For many of you this is your first time in here, but I see a few former students.” He shifted his glance toward me and I sank down in my chair. I failed this class last semester. I was turned on to a delicious substance called coffee since then. I can actually pay attention. The rest of my classes were new at least.

            The entire class was consumed by curriculum and useless nonsense that everyone already knew. It ended very fast. I walked with the flow of students out the door. A boy in the hall smiled at me. I had never even seen him before. He had long brown hair, a few inches taller then me, a crooked smile, and piercing eyes. It took me by surprise.  I stumble for a second. I think he noticed because his smirk turned into a grin. I blushed and continued walking. He was most likely looking at some other girl anyways. “Some other girl” I reassured myself.

            Periods went by the same exact way. Boring curriculums and expectations are the norm for the first day. Forth period was different though. The boy that I seen in the hall was also in the class. I read the teachers assigned seating chart and I was in the back row to the far left. I shuffled my binder in my hand and sat down. He came and sat next to me. I tried not to get nervous and fiddled with a paper in pen.

            “Hey, m’ names Charlie” he said. I looked over at him to see who he was talking to, and had to double take to notice he was speaking to me.

            “Oh.. I’m May, nice to meet you.” My words were choked and quiet. I probably sounded like a mouse; my voice is pretty high and soft. It doesn’t help when I have to clear my throat.

            “I’m new to the school, you look like someone I could talk to.” He gave me the same smirk he made before. It made me uneasy. I was not used to boys talking to me.

            “I’ve lived here my entire life”, I didn’t know what to say. It was a stupid response. “I was born here.”

            “Cool.” He had to have already lost interest. One word responses eat at me. I always want the conversation to go on, but I’m never good at saying what people want to hear. I wonder if what the want to hear, is just me not talking. Not the most interesting person to talk to. The highlight of my life is my father’s death, once you learn that, what else is there that’s cool.

Curtis:

I really like where this story is going. I like the strong character development, and the quirks, like her random introspection that reveals a rejected person resigned to her outcast status, but also her fears and sense of humor about it... It's good work! And the last paragraph has some of the best stuff this time. Keep at it.

  THIS IS A STORY, NOT MYSELF, ILL ADD MORE PIECES IN DIFFERENT BLOGS AS I GO

           

            The weak light of morning shone through the cracks of my blinds. The cold of morning sent shudders through my body. Winter air seeped through my window; I had forgotten to close it last night. I tossed and turned, stretching my arms above my head as far as possible. I guess I looked like hell. Flannel pajamas, smeared makeup, and bed hair was morning for me. Not exactly the latest fashion. The alarm still bellowing away at me as if it’s in pain and the snooze was its only morphine. Ahh, the first procrastination of the morning. I was going to be late for school.

            I slopped out of bed, my blankets coming with me halfway across my small room. It was filled with junk that I never used. A mother could assume a war had happened overnight and the debris were casualties of cleanliness. Although the room was filled with possessions, it just felt empty. I made my way to the bathroom, the wood floor creaking underneath my feet. Pale yellow walls led me to the mirror. Oh the mirror. How much I despise you. You were never a pleasant site to me. Everyone sees themselves differently but I’m sure I’m nothing special. My eyebrows are too thick, my eye lashes were to thin and short, nose to flat, lips too thin. I tell myself I’m ugly enough everyday, occasionally boys will point it out to.

            I dread the entire public school population. I have few friends, Ashley and Beryl, they are nothing special ether. Ashley is not ugly or chubby like me anyways, she has gorgeous eyes and lips and long blond hair that shimmers at the faintest of light. The problem about her is, I think she’s slightly retarded. Beryl is quiet. Not the quiet type that gets good grades and gets recognized by NASA for her science fair project, the type that keeps to themselves and fork out average grades. My friends are outcasts. I take what I get. I’m an outcast so what really makes the difference.

            I have lived with my mom since I can remember. We live on settlement money that was provided by my dad’s death. She never really told me how he died; she drinks vodka like its water and gets all emotional when the topic comes around. She attempted a few times but was more like guttural sobs and high pitch whales. Kids ask me how he died every once in awhile. It embarrasses me how I don’t know what happened. I always make up some quick freak accident on the spot. Everything from tangled into a parachute, ripped to shreds by a bear, fell off the Grand Canyon, dissolved in acid. Anything that I think will surprise them.

            I was on the school bus now. I hate everyone on the bus, and they don’t think much of me ether. I think the bus driver doesn’t even like me. He has often tried to keep his lips over his teeth when someone throws a book or spit paper into my hair. I always sit alone.

            Today the windows are fogged over. The heater underneath me is too hot. The rush of blood to my fingers sends prickles through my arms. No matter how much it happens, being uncomfortable is something you never get used to. It’s somewhere around 7:30. I don’t have a cell phone or a watch, I just ride the bus everyday and school is not far away.

Curtis:

You've got a great faculty with language. Keep playing around with unexpected ways of saying things, but be careful not to over-do it either or you end up with too much of a good thing. This feels like it has the potential to be a good character-driven story, and I was right there with you until the last paragraph. Not sure what happened there. Keep writing.

Don't expect this to be anything interesting or fun. I really just have 40 minutes to write before I walk from CHOICE to Drivers ed. This is just my day.

No, no, no, not enough sleep. I hit my alarm over and over again. Snoozing was just an understatement. I should have just set the alarm at 6 so I wasen't hitting it until 7. I woke up and got some coffee like always. I like my coffee with creamer but It still has to be bitter. Coffee is a must for the morning. The best part of waking up is Folgers   Stimulants in your cup!

Once I actually got with it and energetic (somewhat) I realized I had only 20 minutes to get ready. If you seen me today you have witnessed my natural hair. It reminds me of a train wreck and a storm at the same time. Some people like it. Some people think its cute. Some people wanted to pet it. I wanted to shoot myself. Rediculous I know over my hair, but it bothers me when it won't stay out of my eyes. It likes to curl down and stab me, or try and fly off with the wind.

Reverse, turn, drive down the driveway. Lexi waits for me at the bottom of my 15 foot hill or comes up when the car is started. She lives across the street from me, directly. It's good though, we both don't have to ride the rediculously early bus anymore. It used to come at 6:55, but this year it gets there at 6:30. That's a little rediculous when you live 2 miles from choice. She hops into the car and were on our way.

In the few weeks of driving I would have to say I've gotten substantually better. Im no longer snapping necks at stops and I can turn without giving wiplash. I still can't park.

My mom switches driving spots with me once Lexi and I are out of the car. We walk only about 15 feet away. She strays around for 2 minutes usually acting like shes fiddling with something. Really I just think shes trying to see if Im going to light up on the spot. Maybe shes just peranoid. Maybe Im just paranoid.

Advisory is short. It's just like get your information and leave. I don't understand why we count it as a period.

Second period is fitness. Yay. I really don't like fitness but its a hell of alot better then PE at the highschool. I wish I diden't have to. I'm not fat. Maybe they don't want me so skinny. Still a size three.

3erd Period is human sexuality. I did a poster on chlamydia. Wonderfull eh? I only wanted to do it because it reminded me of the scene in Mean Girls when the PE teacher was trying to teach sex ed and spelled chlamydia with a k. CHLAMYDIA, K-L-A-M-I-D-I-A. NO SEX. PROMISE NO SEX. NOW EVERYONE TAKE A RUBBER. I love that movie.

4th Period was with paul. I really wasen't feeling to happy today. I diden't think geometry could possibly brighten my mood. I told paul I was going to the bathroom. Really I was going to get water in the solution center. My friend and Kate were in there. I like Kate, shes a really cool counciler. I talked to her a bit and then we went to her office instead of me going back to Geometry. I have been down all day and I was thinking maybe I could talk to her about it. Knowing me though I couldn't even get out what I wanted to talk about. Maybe I should just let it run it's course and see how everything lays out before I start talking about it. I haven't told anyone.

Lunch, Corn dog special and 2 jalapeno poppers. Yum. I ate alone.

5th Period for me is advanced literature. I didn't really understand the directions. I don't pay attention enough when Im down. Were reading parts of Freedom writers. CJ wasen't here today. Me and Lexi were bumbed.

6th was Breeses class. He is actually sitting right next to me right now. He will most likely be the only one to ever read this. I was happy there was no direct yelling at me today. I was really frusturated with the 2 mins to read the group stories. The stories were really flawed at the end because people couldn't read all the information giving. It was like reading chapter 1,2,4, and 7 of a book and then writing a book report. You miss important details. I had oreos and goldfish when he was reading. Sorry if Im not supposed to do that. Food comforts me. I like The Burn Journals. I wrote my promise about reading a book every term like a wedding vow. It made me laugh to myself. I love to read. If I don't have a new book to read I end up reading books again. I read every night and it gets my mind off the day. It's what I need most the time.

7th Is rock band. My only incomplete. Kindof ironic considering I love music. I just don't like music theory and by 7th period I just want to be out. Paul was cool and let me listen to beauty in the breakdown by the scene aesthetic while I tried to learn it. All the tabs frusturated me. I'll learn it with guitar pro or something. It was only showing 2 chords. If you haven't listened to beauty in the breakdown I suggest you do. It's not deathmetal. It's just acoustic and singing.

It's 3oh!3 pm right now. I need to head over to drivers ed. After drivers ed Im cutting Dale Fontains hair. I like to cut hair.

-Curtis Anders Nielsen II

Curtis,

Hey. It's like after midnight but I was laying awake thinking about all the blogs I probably need to read and so I logged in and here I am after reading yours. I'm not trying to pat myself on the back or anything; I'm often up late and early, so I definitely relate to your snooze button scenario. It's a scene I play out every morning myself. I like to get to school early, because that is the only time I can count on having to myself. I like to get everything ready, you know, washing whatever dishes some ungrateful students have left me, ironing my shirt for the day, making coffee, etc. You know, following the routines that keep us sane. By the way, I do not have any objection to your getting a snack; that is what the food is for. The problem was your timing; you were in the middle of the 5 minute cycle, time which you should have been reading over your story! Anyway, you are a talented writer and I appreciate your being so candid in your journal. I respect that. A far as no one else reading it besides me, I can assure you that others will read it. I can't say who or where or how many, but I know for a fact that this site gets about 500 unique visitors a month besides you great kids. I'm not tooting my horn; it's your work and the work of other students they're mostly looking at. I appreciate you telling me your feelings about driving and your mom and what you really did while you were supposed to be doing geometry. You may not believe this, but I do agree that sometimes talking to a trusted adult is a smarter idea than geometry. It sounds like you might have  a problem that you are keeping to yourself. I have found that some problems are like that--best kept to oneself, that is. I have my own share of secrets too, but it is also good to talk about them with someone who has the life experience to listen and understand and maybe even a little wisdom to share if you're ready to hear it. I'm not saying you have to tell me anything, but if you want to I'm a good listener.

Be good.

Brees