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hannah Feb 2020
I've known for a while now
That I love you
I love you like the sun
Beating down with so much radiance
I love you in your sweaters
And your high heeled boots
Walking on the side of the road
Through the rain
Like it's nothing
I love you in green
And black
And yellow and blue
I love you when you're turned away from me
Doing what you love most
And I love you when you ask me
To come and sit with you
I love being with you
I love you
Every once in a while, they'll be doing something and I'll just look at them and think, "God, I love them". This is all straight from the heart. I think we're going places.
Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2019
Today flipped through my 10th grade journal
Stumbled upon a list
My greatest desires at the time
Things for which I most wished

The first and only thing written
To find someone who loves me
Tells me I'm beautiful every day
When I look and act ugly

Here I am nine long years later
Blessed with that guy
I am still unhappy
Don't know why
True story
Loser Apr 2019
I spend most of my time staring at blank pages and listening to a snare on 2&4. I carve cuts into the tips of my fingers and bite nails off out of boredom. I also wonder how I should be living, because something feels wrong. Should I be this sad?

And every adult I have ever met talks of High school as the best years of their life, so what am I doing wrong? I have friends, I have time, I have people who care. So why do I pace up and down alone in an abandoned theater and feel grim under Friday night lights?

I wrote songs about change last year. I wrote songs about getting better. And every single ******* one of them still applies today. Now I just write to cope, and I'm trying to write better, but it's hard when I'm so jumbled. It’s hard when I get scared.

And Daniel told me to draft my work and avoid contentedness, and I trust him and I tried. I was never content. My time is flashing before me and I have the guts to wear a frown. I'm in the "good ol' days" right now, so why aren't they so good?
This sat in  my notes forever. I re-wrote it a bunch too. I hope you like it.
Haylin Jun 2018
I survived my freshman year
I'm now a sophomore
But I want the school year to be here
I miss school
I have 82 days left of hell

Amanda Kay Burke May 2018
Sherlie is the beautiful girl I know
Her eyes light the room like a rainbow
When she smiles, I cannot help but feel great
For this lovely person I could never feel hate.
Sherlie sweet like sugar cane
Love for her could never wane
Makes me smile every day
Without her I do not feel okay
When she is not here, i feel biue
I have not a clue what I can do
I always  make her go to school
Everyone knows that Sherlie rules!
Sherlie is like a ray of sunshine
I am so glad to have her as a friend of mine.
This page is half-full so I'll fill the rest
High school days...
troglodyte Sep 2015
The start of sophomore year.

Day one blew by like a summer zephyr.
The excitement of the beings filled the halls,
the smell of the over-sweaty high school kids
burned my nostrils,
and the cheers of friends reuniting
revererabted the cluttered yellow rooms.

Day two inched forward slowly,
testing my patience as I sat eagerly,
my small hands gripping my seat’s edge
until my knuckles turned white,
and my hands grew tired.
That second day was the worst day.

My feet could not move fast enough
as I raced to the front door of my third home.
The coolness of the grass felt nice
against the blistering heat of the sun.
I did not look behind me while I reached,
grasping the metal handle in my hand,
and pushing the door open to go inside.

I hardly sat down on my disheveled bed
before I received a text message.
The boy down the road’s name
flashed across my screen,
and I opened it without hesitation,
without holding my breath,
because this boy was my good friend.

Four words, texted in small font,
the black letters harsh against the white background.
Four words, not directly spoken,
but over my outdated phone.
Four words, those four words that
I should have declined when I first got them.

As innocent as the message was,
it left me feeling both like I was weightless
and that the whole world was crushing me.
The simultaneous bittersweetness settled
in the pit of my empty stomach.
Nervous hands responded but anxious feet
managed to move without thought.
I think I ran there.

The scent of dog wasn’t hard to perceive
when the door flew open, and there He was.
I had to look up to meet His gaze,
His dark eyes were soft, His skin fair.
His black hair curled around His face
and His dark scruff stayed neatly in place.
This was His last friendly smile to me.

The honey in His voice left me senseless.
It was sweet and kind, like His stiff gestures,
His large hands were tense, always fidgeting.
His eyes weren’t focused on the television
while we sat on the corduroy couch,
but the hem of my denim dress
that fell just above my legging-clad legs.
This left me overwrought with both curiosity
and fear.

The gentle air from His lips touched my neck,
and where I should have flinched, I froze.
The air grew warmer, nearer, but I grew colder,
more frightened than agog.
Then His hand touched my leg gently, as if that would
hush the feeling in my gut.

Those hands were quick, like callused demons,
Trailing up my thigh in what felt like a second
and a year, all at once.
His hand stopped abruptly mid stroke,
looking at me with those once soft eyes,
but they weren’t gentle anymore,
they held longing, no, hunger.
Hunger I have never seen before,
like He was ready to consume my whole being.
And I hardly got my breath back before those hands
continued to slide up,
leaving a trail of goosebumps behind Him.

Another pause - deep breath.
As He questioned me, I questioned myself.
What if I touched you there, He inquired.
I wondered how long I would have to hold my breath
before I would pass out.
He waited for a response, but none came out.
I opened my mouth to speak, but only to taste the stale air
before I closed it again.
I closed it, not because I was a coward,
but because if I would have spoken,
I would have vomited all over Him.
Oh god, I wish I would have opened my mouth.

Fast forward to November.
A Sep 2014
freshman year
Happy, scared, young, full, and ready for whatever it is thats about to hit you.
You loose your bestfriend, and your virginity.
You gain a new clique, and a body count.

sophomore year
your freshman expertise kick in and you think youve got the feel for the highschool life.
You fail chemistry, and go to your first party.
you are now a ****
You think youre cooler than your ex
bestfriend because you have ten bucks saying that shes never had a boy see her underwear or that shes never been as drunk at you.

junior year
You spent your summer in therapy, in
and out of mental hospitals because your eating disorder became deadly, and all of the friends you partied with cut you off because your newest bestfriend convinced you to sleep with one of their exs.
You come back to school as dead as
you have ever been and you spend every lunch period in the art room painting your sorrows away and you spend every night at home doing the same only this time your wrist becomes the canvas.

seinor year**
Your down to one medication a day now and you have commited social suicide all summer by staying in to gaurd yourself from turning to drugs and alcohol again to hide the pain. Graduation is arround the corner and you realize you could finally be happy once this is all over.
Happy to be out of that hell hole, but inspired by scho starting again.

— The End —