Stoic_Slaughter's journal

My apologies for the former.

To run so far that you know they
can't tag along behind you.
To grow so dark that if they search,
you know they'll never find you.
To cry so softly in your dreams
of pain and lost allure,
that you will feel a loneliness
you've never felt before.
So different are you, far from they,
who feel no misery,
that you long for naught but a taste
of mediocrity.
And bitter, ah...but bittersweet
is that of being them.
Their depths too long for one to stand,
too short for one to swim.

Alright. One more.

I lied about the previous,
I'm drifting into nothingness;
a tender touch, a jolt of bliss,
and then he's gone from me.
He sees me as he sees them all;
if only he could see me fall;
could hear his name I weakly call,
could feel my misery.
I'd let him be with all the rest,
I'd die for him at his request,
and in the end I would be blessed,
if I could see him smile.
So wonderful he is to me,
I long for him to be happy,
so I'll remain a mystery,
to haunt him all the while.

Okay, okay, okay. So the first one is just -a-a. The second is aaab. I'm sick of poetry for now, so I'm never posting any...ever...again.

So...the posts I got were positive enough that I'm posting another poem. Enjoy or be disgusted.

How dare you speak so beautifully?
You taint the words within your voice.
You cannot have a hold of me,
for there is falsehood in your eye.

It troubles you internally,
I see it in how you devoice
each word that trembles desperately
in vain attempts to keep me nigh.

If any of you have comments, please post.

Two cloaks I have; one fair, and one unseen.
The former changes if one's eyes are keen.
The latter I prefer, but seldom wear,
for those who have seen both prefer the fair.

That's my most recent poem. I wrote it today during latin class, because my usual teacher wasn't there and I was bored. I felt like I should add on to it, but it's so simple and short that I can't.

Speaking of poetry, we're having a massive poetry project in my English class; a lot of it has to do with art as well, so it is basically heaven...regardless of the whiny idiots in there who complain about poetry confusing them and about how they hate English. (Why are they in the class? It's advanced honors.) Honestly though, as much as I enjoy what we're doing in the class, I don't think it's right to force people to write poetry. The majority of the class hates the idea, and I don't think it's just...but then again, who said life would ever be just? I don't feel like sympathizing. I'm too happy. :)

I don't see how anyone could write a story. I've tried so hard millions of times, and I just can't do it. I write something, and then throw it away because it's not what I like or I think it's bad. I'm indecisive about the characters. I can never get a concrete plot, and I'm too concerned about it not being original enough. Maybe this is because I've had bad experiences with writing in the past.

Seventh grade ruined me, I think. I wrote a twenty page poem about "The Hobbit" for an assignment (abab pattern) that rhymed to the letter and had seven syllables in every line. I begged the teacher not to make me read it in front of the class because it was so long, but she made me. So there I stood, reading my twenty page poem. It took me forty-five minutes, and half the class was asleep by the end of it. I felt like crying, because I had worked on it for weeks and no one could appreciate it, regardless of my passion in the reading...not even the teacher, obviously, because she gave me a C.
Teacher: "This...well, it's too long first of all, though I know you spent a lot of time on it. I think it's mediocre, at best. That's why I gave you a C...you could've done better. You're a very bright student, and I would expect more from you." So I cried, but not without a few overly loud venomous retorts at her commentary.
Me: "I could've done better? I...could've done better?! Listen to yourself! You know how hard I worked on this! It has perfect structure and flow! You didn't say this to anyone but me, regardless of how terrible their projects are...I don't see how you sleep with yourself at night. I don't see how you wake up in the morning. You are cruel, and we all know it. I could've done better? No...you could've done better." Et cetera.
So I sat down, awaiting the inevitable detention, but it didn't come. Everyone was looking at me like I was insane, and my teacher just sat there...no flinch of contrite. It was almost time to leave, so the whole class sat there in silence, continuing to gawk at me as I suppressed tears of rage. As we left the classroom, I scowled at the teacher mercilessly, and she looked away. She didn't say anything to me the rest of the year, nor did I get any detentions or punishment from her. I think I scared her, quite frankly...but we all have our crazy moments I guess.

So, that aside, could any writers help me out?

The strangest thing happened to me the other day. I was at the grocery store, just walking around, and this little kid pointed at me and said, "Witch." His mother looked frightened, but not at her child...at me. I thought it was funny and I started laughing, and she walked away with him really quickly. It brightened my day, because it was so random. I should've cackled.

Another amusing occurrence...one of my acquaintances asked me what I thought of their poem, and I said it was rather dry and lacked flow. They scowled at me and said, "Well, that's the last time I ever show you any of my poetry." I replied, "That's fine." Of course they're furious with me now, but I don't see why. People only want you to say what they want to hear, I suppose. I'm thankful that there are still things that make me smile. Laura's death has really been bothering me...probably because she was my age. It's hard for me to comprehend. I've started drawing anime, and I really enjoy it! It takes up a lot of that really uncomfortable "sit around and think" time. I'm very content, as of now. It's lovely.

This is a random conglomeration made with the intent to answer a few unasked but thought of questions.

My mother has decided to ignore me entirely. So I can write, draw, paint...do whatever I wish. My outlets are endless. She doesn't even snoop around in my bedroom. It's bliss.

About Christmas: it was dreadful. Let's think about happier things...like death.

My hair: It's not falling out as badly, and I feel much better. I've been doing everything I can to help it, and I think it's working.

Enough about me. The rest of you, anyone who reads this...how was your Christmas? How was your day? How is your life? Please post! I've missed this website.