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Anais Vionet May 2
It’s Spring Fling today - an all-day campus concert with some up-and-coming music acts. We’ll be out there, in the rain if we have to, we're determined and somewhat waterproof. We went out earlier, doing a scan for friends to find seats and place stuff to hold our spot.

What, up until now, have been notes of preparation for summer move-out, will become a symphony tomorrow - after my last final - I’ll be a sophomore then, I suppose.

Peter has to check an experiment he’s working on. He hugs me and heads out.
“He’s so hot,” Anna observes, “he makes me think about ***, and you know what - YES!”
“You can have him," I say, he’s too tall - and besides - he’s friending-down, with me.” I admit.
“I like him,” Lisa says, “he doesn’t complain or disapprove of things.”
“He’s the modern man,” Anna says, dreamily.
“And he’s REALLY good at kissing games.” I confide, grinning like a creepy boy, to make them jealous. They all made various noises that piggybacked and incorporated into one coherent gagging sound.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: piggyback: "to function in conjunction or carry on the back of another."
Anais Vionet Apr 26
Winter tested my endurance with its sharp and burning cold and now the warm lavender evening, with its smells and sounds of spring seems like a gift. The breeze is warm, and even the broad zones of shadow contain an inviting warmth.

The campus lamps should ignite soon but groups of students are milling, talking and laughing as if no one wants to let go of the day.

As Lisa enters the courtyard the campus lights flicker to life. As she approaches, she lets her book bag slide off her shoulder. Catching it by its strap a millisecond before it hits the ground as she reaches me - without looking - like a practiced trick.

Taking my hand in hers, she asks, head tilted slightly to see my eyes, “How’d the test go?”

I’m the first one in our squad to take a final - most are next week. “Cinchy,” I say with a grin and a flick of my free wrist, “not comprehensive - it just covered the last section.”

“Yea,” she says, “look at you go!” A warm breeze wells to obscure her face with her flaxen, cornsilk hair. She lets her bag fall the last inch, and ponytails it, two-handed, with smooth, practiced ease.

Finals existed, like ancient, cultural crucibles, long before our time, but these are ours, as if they’ve always been waiting - just for us.

Yale is still new to us, but we talk, juxtaposing experiences, challenging and comforting each other, even though we’re on slightly different paths. It seems that everyone is pumped up though, a little stressed maybe, but more than ready to hit it.
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Juxtapose: compare different things side by side.
Strying Dec 2020
higher and higher
don't look down
because falling now
is not an option
Strying Dec 2020
thinking to myself,
"how can I be like this?"
it's finals week
and I'm up till 3 again

I'm staining my own soul.
good luck if you have finals <3
Monet Echo May 2020
The chill crawls up my spine
Its tendrils of fingers intertwine
I walk a never ending line:
Anxiety that goes on

I stumble forward, determined but weak
I can’t remember how to speak
But from my mouth: a mournful shriek
Will there be a dawn?

Whispers begin to fill the air
They come and go from nowhere
Were they even real? Is nothing there?
Fear has a reek

What brought me to this dark place
What set me on this eternal race
What being or spirit, what face?

Ah, it’s finals week.
A little humor to end off finals week for some of us :) who knew one week could feel so long...
I'm burdened with stress,
The plans that parents press,
and over grades, they obsess,
all to get to success,
my screams I must suppress,
Have no choice but try to impress,
but I must confess,
all this lead to no progress,
my life is such a mess
*** AP exams are coming up and I have to get ready for de and also wanna take like three online classes and I also have to get me permit ahhhHHHH someONE HELP
Jay M Jan 2020
Concealed behind walls of white; hidden from the world, from possibility; trapped within; looking out at the world so wonderful, so full of color and light, whilst I remain hidden behind these walls. Looking out through windows; out at the world I crave to rejoin, recovering from my falls; internal and external; in my head seated under willows, the emotions and events link as I am pacing those plain halls, jotting my thoughts in a journal, then shredding them to bits,  taking part in wordless turns; giving those who love me quite a fright.

Apologizing for my mistakes; so much repetition, replaying that tainted day; over and over, imprinted in my brain; there it shall stay, forevermore, like a red stain on a white cloth, eaten away by a silent silkworm.

Crying rivers of salt whilst standing in the rain; crashing down around me, splashing at my feet; soothing my shivers, the drumming of each cascading drop so entrancing; running down the storm drain; it leaves me be, a moment of freedom, but only such; to arise once more to be my internal torment; my reflection in the window.

Whilst behind these walls so confining, though there are others around me; I am alone. None can see through the eyes of another, and no matter how many stories of mine I tell they shall never be enough to explain why I am behind these walls; why I am so small, and so afraid; nor why I cannot wait for the day to be on the other side of the window.

As I stand before this view, I realize; this scene here, is quite like Alice; standing before the looking glass, so full of wonder and curiosity of what could come from being on the other side; freedom, surely; but then, once within that freedom; what shall become of you then? Still, the memories would be haunting; still, the past would not let you go; still, all who know you would blame you; still, all would certainly never forgive you; still, you can feel the pressure hiding just on the other side of the looking glass; waiting for you.

Also, on the side of freedom, come the questions; come the side-ways glances; come the distrust; come the watchful eyes; come the empty words; come the promises from those who barely knew and say they shall be there but all is the same; come the cries at night when the ache is so great you cannot keep it in any longer; come the conversations with hesitation; come the jokes with the carefully placed filters; come the songs they quickly switch; come the topics once barely uttered and now often discussed; come the stress soon to try to swallow you whole again; come the temptations that you cast aside; come the guilt and misery; comes the new and all-powerful chaos, waiting to devour you whole.

How could I ever forget the thing I most regret? Nightmare made reality; never entirely given a sense of safety or security; gripping in the dark, searching; leaving a scar upon my weary mind; to remind me of what it is I simply must discover; peace of mind; through the pale lit window.

Through the pale lit window is the potential for chaos, but also the potential for a better future. New outlooks on what could be; projects never before thought of or completed; inspirations for poems and art at every turn; knowledge of my strengths and weaknesses; energy and motivation to walk hikes for miles; songs to be written and sung; stories written, completed, and shared; words spoken that are so few, yet strong and powerful; a life ahead never before dreamt of.

- Jay M
January 21st, 2020
This is a prose poem based upon a poem of mine called "Girl At A Window". I wrote this for my Creative Writing final, which I really hope I get a good grade on.
Moth Dec 2019
Papers are due
I haven't even started
my college career is thru

Tests and papers strewn
everywhere this week
and my head is a typhoon
Just some quick rhymes and I'm off to Psychology for my research proposal paper revision.
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