I Wish For It To Forever Rain On Your Fields.

Stop me before I fall off a cliff.
Because then I might actually live.
I need your light and I need your arm.
I'm trying my hardest to keep you from harm.

"A poem can have an impact, but you can't expect an audience to understand all the nuances"
-- Douglas Dunn

Sometimes I feel like I am an extremely mean person. Not because I really am mean, because the more I think about it, I really am not mean. But sometimes I feel like I am. Don't ask me how this makes sense but it kind of does, at least in my brain.

Cute clothes make me sick because I want them so much. I want to go shopping at DI and buy everything. The End.

Search and Find My Symbolism (Disclaimer: To Be Taken Literally)

I dipped my feet slowly into the water first. I was more scared of the waters low temperature than the bright green color of the slimy film that rested atop the ponds still surface. Maybe, I thought to myself, If I just jump in quick and get it over with everything will be fine and this will be a lot less painful than I thought. I couldn't make myself do it, I couldn't just jump in, ignoring my body in protest and my mind in the bleachers cheering for defense. I needed to get it though so I took another step forward, cutting into the waters silence and leaving a little train of ripples splattering off to where I thought my prize was. I was know up to my ankles which doesn't seem like much of an advancement but for the waters brittle temperature, was quite a feat. I had to do it, I had to get my lost possession, I wanted it more than any breathing thing. Everything around me was silent and morose, so I was left to the teasing of my ever questioning mind. The darkness that stretched out wide on both my sides seemed almost divided my the cut of the moon beam that lay straight on my like a spotlight. I felt like an act in the circus as I scooted so the water was at the top of my calf but not quite to my knees. My left foot, almost automatically shifted forward to search for the drop off that Mae had told me would lie about where I was standing. Suddenly I felt it. I pulled my leg back to the comfort of it's warm partner and debated one more time if I was really worth the idea of failure. Yes it was. I needed this more than any other of my conscious needs. I needed what was thrown down in that pond so long ago and I knew it was there, just waiting for me to wrap my young hands around it and take it for new adventures. It was calling to me, pleading with me to take it up and keep it warm. In the middle of my thoughts my body took over, it had decided a sound needed to be made to interrupt the woods seemingly important silence. My body flung itself out while my brain cried out to stop. The sound was made, the silence broken, and I had dived.

DEFINE: cult, love, irony, culture, socialism, meme, internet, and hipster.

It is always a comfort to know that there are still geniuses in the world. Especially the geniuses who feed off emotion to fuel their genius. I am happy to love anything anybody creates as long as it means something... anything at all! I hope that my heart will feel the need to appreciate things that have a purpose, a meaning, a cause, a passion, so on and so forth.

I have realized lately that as a high school student, your maturity is changing evolving and becoming tangible very fast. The reason we look back at students younger than us is because we feel like we are so much older, like we have matured beyond their level. To outsiders or those seeking for a debate involving high conflict, seniors looking down on the classes below them is a prejudice and simply quite a rude thing to do because, "That was you last year!" is such a prominent statement. But just today I was looking back to just last year and thinking of things I used to do, think, participate in, and so on and I realized that I have greatly matured in my life. I have learned so many lessons in the past year that make me feel qualified to be bigger and better than classes lower than me, and I am not even a senior yet!
          My actions have changed tremendously. I no longer feel the need to bash every single assignment I get in class because I have decided its not worth the energy. My thoughts have changed in the sense that I feel like this year I have become more friendly and outgoing, and I was a little more shy and shut off last year. I also feel that through my past year of education I have reached the ability to go into a higher level of thinking about life, literature, media and more. My feelings have also matured tremendously. In fact, I think that is probably what has changed the most, I have begun to realize that flinging around my feelings is not important and that not very many people care anyway. And most importantly I feel different about the people around me. I feel like I am happy to have people, rather than be annoyed by every sound they make. In random conclusion, I am different this year. I feel mature and I feel like I have the right to be aware of that maturity. I know that I still have a very long way to go but I feel like this past year I have learned a lot, and ya... that is the end of that ramble.

I thought I would add a little something to the end of this. I got a car. It's a bug. It's red. His name is Lenny. That is all that needs to be documented here.

Walk Like Matter is a Solid

My heart is thrown into the wild air,

I'm trying to follow your turning trail. 

It's hard to read your tattered lines, 

I'm amazed at your unbelievable mind. 

I'm taken backwards by your kindly style, 

Your shiny young laugh and your interesting smile. 

Arthur the Author

{{What would I think of myself if I wrote a book?}}

          I was tempted to reach down and sweep the floor with my now wet hand. It seemed like the prompting was more of a command to clean but as I reached down and the dust stuck to my perspiration I felt more like I was collecting the memories that had been laying hidden in this forlorn room for all of the past awkward years. A trail of small but distinct footprints made a trail that led to the far end of the attic and curved back behind a large elegant trunk in the corner. I carved the small footprints out a little larger as I stuttered across the room with caution wanting to preserve the dust floor and the mysterious magic that filled the room. I wanted to call out to (insert girl name) but it just didn't seem right to make another noise when my feet were already disturbing her silence. 

          As my path came to a curve I saw (insert girl name)'s little red shoes on the floor. Then her full body came into view. She was wearing her favorite jean jumper, her eyes were open and staring, without a blink at the still ceiling. Her chest went up and down in slow breathes that seemed to be thought out. Seeing her breathe that way made me realize that I had stopped breathing and I gulped in the reserved air around me that had mixed with a little bit of dust, and then let out a labored sigh. 

          "Whadda you want?" (insert girl name) floated into the open air. 

          "How long are you going to keep this up?" I throw back "I mean, (insert girl name), you know mom didn't mean it don't you?"

          "Ya I know, just the anger talking right?"
          "Right." I fight hard to destroy any quiver in my speech, making my reply round like it is totally sure. Inside I am unsure myself if mothers words were thought out they way she presented them so carefully to (insert girl name) or if they were just thrown out like garbage on a a collecting day.
          "I just wanna be alone for a little bit."
          "Okay." I meander back down stairs not in much of a hurry because I was not successful in getting (insert girl name) to return with me. As I reentered the kitchen I hear my great aunt's questioning voice in full force. Stabbing my mom with questing that don't seen to have a good answer. The thing about Great Aunt is that she thrives off information. She already seems to know everything about everyone and she is always in a race trying to know more.
          "But who? Who did she take to the bar?"
          "I don't know {Candice}, I simply heard that she was with someone, he could have even invited her to the bar."
          "But who?" Great Aunt duplicated the question to herself now. Her face deviated from its original questioning look to a daydreamy look. Not a happy daydream, but a dismal, confusing daydream that had been torn from the caves of her memory and now was haunting her thoughts with even more habitual questions.
          "(insert boy name) honey, I need you to do the dishes now!"
          "Okay mom." I trotted over to the sink while I rolled up my sleeves in dismay. When mom was angry with someone it was best to avoid upsetting her, most people just avoid her altogether but I occasionally stick around for a show, or to do jobs for her in order to stay on her good side. I sat at the sink looking back through the small, window like hole in the wall to catch another glance at Great Aunt. I have found over the years that the more you study someone the more you notice about them.
           "Why do you give a care anyway?" Mother said to Great Aunt. Mother had moved over to the couch and picked up her stitching.
           "I don't, I don't." Great Aunt moved to the couch opposite my mother and began to read her novel. As I studied her I could tell she wasn't reading but still thinking, still questioning in her mind. I studied her worn face as I scrubbed the large pot she had just cooked in. The more I looked the more I wanted to know her thoughts. Wrinkles on her face seemed to straighten out in my repairing mind for just a few moments, her complexion went from a ash to a pearly white and for a moment I swear I saw her slip out a singular smile. As she looked up I was startled and shoved my eyes back down toward the sink. I spent the next couple seconds in silence washing over my favorite ocean green plate. Thinking about my dad who had given me the gift.
          "Where is (insert girl name)?" mother blurted blowing out my sweet silence, "I thought I told you to go get her!" Here comes the trouble
          "I did go," I say feeling a tingle run up my leg to my stomach, "she said that she just wanted to be alone for now." The same tingle was now traveling straight to my heart causing it to lub loudly.
          "Okay then," mother simply stated. Her answer, clam and collect surprises me. Instead of her subtle reaction calming me, it makes my insides scream louder. My whole body is tingling now every instinct is telling me to run, "Well, keep going!" I hear my mom say, but she sounds far off, I fell removed from the small kitchen but as I look down I am still right there, dirty dish in hand and I resume my chore.

{{Not great. But a Start. I need some good names.}}