What I learned.

In kindergarden, it was easy for kids to get along with someone you've never met. You didn't have a reputation, well unless you were the kid who got caught picking their nose. In High School, we form our own judgement on others, and establish our own cliques. When I walk into class, I can almost see the line that divides the students from each other. 

I was always scared to walk into class knowing I didn't fit into any of the groups. This caused me to be shy in all of my classes. I remember my freshmen year in health class, during feelings friday a sophomore said I seemed wise. They only thought that because I never talked.

Junior year, in mrs.Mckennas room. 218 to be exact, was the typical high school class. You had the jocks, the geeks, the drama nerds, the girls who brought alcohol in water bottles (okay there was only one girl who actually did that) the asians, and any other stereotype you can think of, all smashed together in one room. Now mrs.mckenna somehow, with her crazy ideas brought us all together. She also somehow, made me feel comfortable in high school. 

I miss mrs.mckenna's classroom assignments, they were truly life altering. To make a teenager focus, that involves a hell of an imagination. One time she made me be in a skit, and at last second gave me a scarf to stuff up my shirt. I was shy, and hated attention, yet I had fun. In every assignment, she'd have us show each other what we really thought of each other. Nothing was kept a secret. That year I learned, to not be afraid to write my opinions.

This year, the class is full of different kids, but the same type of cliques as last years. We're not together. We don't trust each other, but that's okay. Because I learned, from mr.good instead. I learned to write what I know. Everyday he would have us write something. This was extremely difficult for me at first, but with in the first week I actually enjoyed writing. I would go back and read my past entries, and sometimes that would inspire me to write something in more depth. Also, it was just a good way to create. To just write, and not plan. To let the pen touch the blank paper, and let it carrie it's own flow. I've learned a lot from mr.good, but for the first time i've learned a lot from myself. 

A Christmas Story

The phone rang. and rang. and… rang. It kept ringing until my sister finally gave up and pushed "end call." My dad not picking up the phone, was not surprising. Even on christmas, leave it to my dad to ignore us. To be honest, he's a nice person, or at least was. But this christmas, is exactly like the last three. I wouldn't have it that way. I wouldn't let him win. As we were driving to my grandmas house, I begged my already pissed off sister to stop off at dads house. She wouldn't go in, it wasn't safe for her kids. I trudged across the porch. Not caring what awaited me on the other side. I knocked on the door until my knuckles throbbed with needles. He wasn't going to win, he wasn't going to get away that easy. I pounded harder, sure someone would come. And sure enough someone did. Now to someone else, what happens next would have been extremely weird, and creepy, but to me it was something I just expected. A fat haggard looking man opened the door. He looked at me, like I was a cop. I guess my appearance is not something they see everyday. I actually take showers, this guy doesn't even own deodorant. I ignored him, I ignored the random pregnant lady in my old room glaring at me. I just kept walking, straight to my dad's room. Which was of course locked. Took a while for him to open, but me just being there really made him get nervous. I could tell he was trying to come up with excuses for his absence in my life. I grilled him, asking him questions after the next. "Anne tried calling, why didn't you pick up?" his eyes darted to the phone next to him.

"Some of the people here, were using it." Liar.

"Okay, well we're going to Grandmas because she's alone. Are you coming with us?" 

He hesitated. wiped his forehead, and stared at the wall behind me.

"I'm busy" he said real fast. 

"with what?" 

"I'm helping people who are in jail make phone calls to their family" he said this, like he was helping with a charity, making a fat donation. 

"What about your family?" 

"I'm talking to dani on the phone." My dad chose his white trash drug abusing jail rotting wife, instead of me. 

"What about me?" Before I even said it, I knew how stupid I was for asking him that. He didn't have a clue, how much he's hurt me. How much, I always ask myself that same question every night. 

He took a deep breath and got up to hug me, I always gave in. I could't refuse my dad, the memories of him and I were just to strong. This time was different. I'm not sure why, maybe it's because I had't eaten anything all day, or maybe because I was coming down from a chocolate buzz, or maybe it was just finally time to walk away. And that's exactly what I did. I didn't cry, and hold my arms out. I rejected his hold, and it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do. The scary part is, I'm not even sorry. 

My christmas sounds horrible, but surprisingly it was great. I got to see my grandma, hold my nephew, and draw with my niece. I also got to see how strong I truly can be. 

 

Danielle Cashen

The first thing I noticed was her voice. How it made me feel. 

I wanted to scream.

 Scream so loud we'd all be shocked into silence.

 That's all I ever wanted was for her to be silent.

 Most of all I wanted her shadow to fade away. 

Her cowering hunch, and that damn cigarette smoke following me, collapsing everything I once had.

 Her strong hold on my dad was my everyday nightmare.

 I never thought her out to be evil, to me she wasn't even human.

 She was just an empty shell, feeding off the lives of others. 

For a while I disappeared. 

Not on purpose, but on accident. It was like being in a coma, I couldn't feel them anymore. 

The memories were never lost though, they still had a grip on me. 

Forcing me to wake up. I saw it more clear, and I understood what I needed to do. 

Now because of me she rots in her cell. 

Waiting for time to release her, because time is the only one who will forgive her now. 

Write a Riff

How do I break a habit that's not mine? This habit follows me, trying to break me. But what if I'm already broken. Is she trying to smash the broken pieces into dust. Turn me into sand and watch me blow away. How do I stop this? Does it have a name? Why does she do this to me? the evil consumes her, turns a laugh into a cackle. Turns the air as cold as her heart. For what will not break me, builds me. I am strong, I can feel her fear. I see her hatred. Only evil understands this hatred I feel. Only evil can understand these questions. 

Fast Write

The moon light shown bright, casting gray shadows. Snow was swallowing my black flats during the slippery trudge up the hill. The breeze chilled the soul, taking the last bit of heat away. My mind was set on the scene, above me stood a cross. Recognizable from my young life. My black dressed flowed in the winter night. The weather would not stop me from looking presentable to my grandfather, for this I owed him at least. Cold dense cement stairs lead the way. Emotionally I was unprepared. The warm welcoming of the light guided me to where I belonged. The pews were the exact ancient way I had remembered, although this time I was here by choice. The only thing different was my grandfather. Instead of smiling beside me, he stood still behind glass. Forever paused as a memory. My brother hugged me. I needed that, for everything around me felt so distant.

Remember

I always look forward to the big things in life. My first car, my graduation, going to college, and of course my first love. We all believe that there's always something bigger, something better beyond what we have. What I really want to remember is all the little things that make my life worth living. 

The little things that help me wake up in the morning. The smile that my nephew gives me, that makes me wonder how long his innocence will last. I want to remember that feeling of when my crush smiles at me in the hall, whether that was freshman year or now. The feeling of being a kid, flying on swings just to feel the rush of wind against my face, as my feet kick the sky. I'll aways remember my friends, and most of all my enemies, who forced me to be stronger. I'll remember the first time I took the subway, I was scared shitless because my teacher got stuck in the doors.  I'll always remember to bring my dignity to a party, or else you'll be puking it up later.

Most of all I will remember my grandpa who taught me how to forgive. If I could pick anything to remember it would be forgiveness. It repairs the heart, and makes me confident that nothing or no one can give me. Forgiveness is easier said than done, at times I loose this, but sense the day my grandpa died I respect myself and others. Hopefully with forgiveness we can all grow to be happy. 

What makes me scream

what makes me want to scream as a teenage girl?

Trying to fit in, and look pretty. To always know the right answer in a world that doesn't actually care. What makes me want to scream, is the fact that when I do, no one listens, That I am somebody, maybe not as beautiful or as funny, but I am worth knowing. What makes me want to scream? Oblivious guys and ruthless girls. People who decide who I should be before they actually know anything about me.