******* Hell
What is that smell
Must be the Sewage Outside
Shut the windows
The smell still lingers
Note to self wash my fingers
And my *****

Not much has changed, has it?
Same friends, though some have passed-
all the same, as they last.
Some still hanging by their thread,
some thought better of when they're dead.

Don't you flounder further fish!
The one you want is one you've missed.
Track back
           find his contact.
He asked for 10,
           give him 30
He's given more in the end...

I lost my sock
in by bed
I think it's near
my lovers head
I hope they won't
wake up to see
a smelly sock
that belongs to me

You've always been so loud.
Yelling, and throwing my insecurities out for all the neighbors to see. Embarrassing me. Your voice is so annoying it's depressing me. With thoughts of my lows and rarely thoughts of my highs.

I've become good at tuning you out. But on lonely days where your words seem so right I can't help but to get drunk off that cup of misery. But I'm tired of hanging with you - you simply make me so blue.

And it's hard to get away from your words, let alone break away from you.

So why don't I try something new. Your bags are packed and the über man's waiting- to take you - somewhere where lonely hearts go to do exactly what it is you like to do.

Write about being seen, really being seen.
(Remember to go with your "first flash," and write for 10 minutes without stopping or thinking.)

I was so humiliated. Besides feeling humiliated, I felt like I was on display. Each step I took down the hallway, every person in every little group glared at me, glanced away, and the whispers were buzzing. I felt it unjust, but I knew I brought it on myself. I cannot say I felt betrayal, as I was the original betrayer, (well, he was, but our emotional volley had collapsed with the weight of my action) but I hated him for savoring the revenge of my ruined reputation. I knew the pain I bestowed on him wouldn’t go away, but his smug satisfaction of broadcasting my shame only added to my humiliation.

When is graduation? Exactly two months away. That was April first, and I would have my high school diploma June 1st. I was a survivor, for my whole life, and although it was awful, I knew I could get past it. Still, every step I took in the hallway following that dreaded day, every move I made, every word I spoke, every breath I exhaled– was noticed, and I was judged without given the opportunity to provide an explanation of my perspective. High school rumors were ruthless, but what was worse is when it wasn’t a rumor. It was a scandal.

Even though no one dared to ask about it, to obtain information from me, I knew they all knew. Everyone knew, and once the basic information was known, details were not important. I wondered how many other girls experienced what I was experiencing, having to hold their head high and act proud despite the shame. It was strengthening, inadvertently, but the only other option was to hide away and avoid everyone. Even with a reputation, I couldn’t do that. Peers whispered and laughed degrading words, female faculty cast judgmental stares and all male teachers avoided eye contact, to avoid any association with me.