#evaluation
Vibrations of the unknown tomorrow,
Nothing can cling to my skin
I gaze,
Unapologetically,
Towards the sun.
Fever licking the edges of my decisions
Feeding a hunger with no end in sight
Palms open, head high
I drift,
With the current.
Somewhere,
My reflection hesitates, refusing to be me.
The sky loosens,
Heavy, humid, half-wet hair,
Pressing my need to break eye contact.
The atmosphere took notes,
While I believed I was free.
She handed them back to me,
Each drop, an uninvited weight
A film you can’t wash off.
I blink at the clouds,
Open my mouth,
And she speaks first.
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 9:21 AM UTC
Earlier today, I had a small-group evaluation
that I’ve been quietly dreading
and frankly, I wasn’t sure I was ready.
See, I’ve neglected things of late
I had the flu and couldn’t concentrate.
But once that was over, I could focus,
and I did some uneducated guessing,
about what the physiology skill-drill might be.
My group peer-assessed me, and those guys can be savage,
and a fail on the quiz could block my module passage.
I showed what I’d prepared, 2-hours focussed on things like prioritizing diagnoses.
Their questions were pointed but they didn’t reveal their prognoses.
How’d I do? I haven’t a clue.
I was quivering with exhaustion when I was through.
The professeur seemed pleased, and I got a few nods and smiles,
in my clinical-presentation debut.
.
,
A song for this:
Diary by Lucy Tun
You Need Therapy (Ready) by Mila Smith
Feb 4
Feb 4, 2026 at 5:47 PM UTC
Just because the battle was won,
Does not. mean it was less of a battle.
If someone else won their war,
Be glad. you didn't pay victory's toll.
Jan 28
Jan 28, 2026 at 9:51 AM UTC
Is it worth it
To try?
Is it worth bleeding
Myself
Dry?
Is it worth
Being
Such a mess,
Just to
Confess
This fault
Of mine?
Is it worth it
To see?
Is it worth drowning
In the
Deep
Blue
Sea?
Is it worth
The price
I’ll have to pay,
Just to end up
Losing
Someone’s rigged game?
Is it worth it,
Is it worth my
All?
What sacrifice
Will make me tall
Enough to see
Everything
With my own
Eyes,
With my own
Life?
What mountains must
A soul climb,
To call to the sun
And touch
The sky?
What monster must I
Face,
What tight em-
Brace,
What ribbon must
I
Break
through?
Is it worth it,
To give my all?
Is it worth it,
To face a storm
With nothing but
My pride and faith,
With nothing meaningful
To say?
Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 5:52 AM UTC
this, and that,
what good and fine as can be,
may be limited by, in fact,
one bit of both of us acting
as reader one and writer one
assigned to frame a mindform
an aspirant's aim, a mortal hero,
no superior anything, Joe Blow,
Johnny Come Lately, and
Johnny Lunch Pail, and Big Bad John
as a mind user holds self evident
what another holds sacred and undeniable
peace has a rule, least said, soonest mended.
Suffer it to be so, now
fully fected per form re co known,
true rest, debt free, fret free, ready
recognize trust as post warring, after
war reasoning retired, generally,
in peace
knowing using time we share,
my side of the situation produces
peace past understanding we live as part
of something we are reactions to as parts
required to inspire our realization as a whole.
From our marveling minds, we may so wonder
as mankind ever has minds we may open wider
while we are resting, re estimating worths costs
what's it cost to think in English a Hebrew word
a foreign idea, to think in miyn kind classified we
not me, nor you, we ag re spond aghast, what if
this is finished but
for our final faith's polishing touch. A reader.
My dare to say, the way I lived, worked.
My bet if time were today, what I live in;
then we live in it together, rationally balanced
at this previously unthinkable point. Ready
to experience thought slowed to ink speed…
elipses signify, thought pauses to think, read
right to left or up and down or left to right,
front to front, face to face, mirroring mind,
relearn from famous heros, mirroring kind-ness
like me beings shown our premyelinated brain rind,
bring me guile, show me some unprejudged idle word
logical extender of thought you heard said, hermit
hero's… the hidden practically only quiet certainty,
Cartesian or Pascalian, pre trib rapture revelation,
addendum on the end of the narrative, eh,
curses, foiled again… Mighty Mouse, ah,
shoot gee **** kids
you better eat your Wheaties, be like Bruce,
tangled in a time of thinkable self will power,
dedicated to a timeless sufferage practice
to perfect a performance costing more,
than any other person ever paid, right
at one single point piercing everything
perfectly.
Storywise. Told and retold, to you, your story,
who are you but my audience, or our audience,
as we think during instances of mistaken belief.
The function of the mind, in a verb, by leaving
today the same everywhere right now, belief
can release potential peace, right when lief
as well think of green green moss after rain,
if there be any good, think on that.
Prepose your mind's eye on that goodness,
noticed, mosses and lichens shout bright
reflecting back through our whole being
beauty at the sight, at the action seeing
as today,
where I am, on purpose,
proposing one pastence,
everything everywhere all at once,
now, then
thinkable, in a crazy unsortable
fluid in a bubble, bubble in a foam,
message sent, Peace on Earth.
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 2:53 PM UTC
I often take the long road home.
It allows me to take a deep dive
of events and find my place in
the trajectory of working hours.
You can do this sort of thing with
quantitative matters. Interactions
between a) and b) will always have
a measurable effect on levels of c)
I have tried to superimpose this idea
on qualitative issues without success.
Even on the longest route there is not
enough road to draw firm conclusions.
Tony Noon
Jan 23, 2025
Jan 23, 2025 at 1:18 PM UTC
I've looked back over the last month or two.
Read everything I thought to put down.
Sometimes I hype too much about the little stuff,
Or go into too much detail about things being rough
And the metaphors? I really went to town.
But reading it all, I bore a smile too.
Because I can see me getting better.
Mar 10, 2022
Mar 10, 2022 at 2:18 PM UTC
#Assertiveness: standing up
for your own rights;
Don't infringe upon or ignore
anyone else's rights, though
It is not aggressiveness
Start with an "I" statement;
It should be descriptive, not
evaluative or condemnatory#
Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 9:20 AM UTC
Are bad-habits
actions we do on impulse
without carefully thinking
whether we should do these actions?
Do bad-habits
lead us away from joy and happiness?
Towards unjoy and unhappiness?
Like overeating makes us fat and diabetic?
Liking smoking cigarettes gives us lung cancer?
Like alcoholism wrecks our life?
Should we introspect
to become self-aware of our bad-habits?
Evaluate our bad-habits?
And reform our mind
to expunge bad-habits from our mind?
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 4:54 AM UTC
When you cannot stand or face
the person looking back at you,
it might be best to change yourself
instead of changing mirrors.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 12:08 PM UTC
Sitting in a room alone. It is clean, brightly lit but peaceful. A cup filled with water sitting upright on the table to my right. A stack of papers rests in front of myself. The sun shining brightly through the window, refracting off of the glass of water creating beautiful dancing lights across the paper. Glancing at the top page reads “Report of Psychological Evaluation” in big black letters. An ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach imitating a thunderstorm is on the rise. The heading continues to cite my name, age, birthdate, dates of the evaluation, Psychologist’s name, and acronyms that are unfamiliar. Grasping the paper it feels smooth, sliding my hand across feeling the ink slightly raised off the page. Following the words as they describe myself at eighteen years of age.
Intelligence is complex. Some are off the charts brilliant, some are average, and others are below the standard of society. People live their entire lives obsessed about their IQ score because humankind accepts this as a universal standard of intelligence. Not everyone’s IQ can be measured accurately as it does not conclude someone’s motivation, creativity, curiosity, innovation and kindness are all key components of character traits that are admired and desired. Unfortunately people, like myself who are dyslexic, have a different method to measure our intellect as we must sit and talk with a psychologist for hours in order for them to determine how our brain works. This system consumed twenty-one hours of my life thus far. Repeating the same test throughout my life with various puzzles, a complete biographical timeline and questionnaires all to be summed up into thirteen pages. Strapped to my ankle like a ball in chain, my thirteen pages are forever in mind.
Looking at my evaluation form my name is written on the top of the page dismissing any doubt. Gazing at the pages on the table with a combination of anxiety and annoyance running through my mind. Reaching out to grasp the pages feeling the significant weight that it holds over me. At first glace the text blurs together. Reading closer the text becomes words but the language is different. The tone of the paper is distant and disconnected. Descriptions of my life begin to form, mapping out every milestone. Since the age of seven, my life has been a roller-coaster from changing school every two-three years, being bullied for being different, to finding salvation within myself leading into proactive accountability to finally rise above all odds. Growing up was not easy. Especially before the No Child Left Behind Act, children with dyslexia were over looked, as many teachers did not know how to teach them. Even now many teachers in public school are not equipped to recognize when students are struggling. Imagining a life where I am not dyslexic, how different it would be.
Turn over the page to expose more information. Written in the text is a comprehensive account of my life. Plainly scripted describing one milestone at a time. Reading a biographical novel, one familiar yet no emotional attachment. As though I am reading my life through the eyes of someone else’s words. The formality of the writing is distant and concise. Leading the viewer to see me as unremarkable.
Reading on, the narrative of my life changes into graphs and floating numbers that are meant to define my intellectual abilities. Staring at the numbers pondering what it means. Acronyms appearing left and right like popcorns. Confusion starts to set in as the suspended numbers start to dance. I was diagnosed at the age of seven in 2000. Nearing the end of first grade, a year I barley remember as I hardly learned anything substantial. My teacher never showed that they cared even after I told them that I was dyslexic. Looking back, I feel that my teacher never understood what I was trying to tell her; instead my teacher brushed me aside not even thinking twice of the ramification that she caused.
Lifting and flipping the next page, but the weight feels heavier than the last. Pressure on my chest begins to build with my anxious mind. Acronyms begin to pop up out of nowhere like popcorn. Like setting sun the words and uses of language slowly start to become unfamiliar as the biographical aspects starts to fade. The terminology shifts to a different standard that is foreign. Lacking the understanding language that is formal academic style.
Remembering when my mother told me that I needed to change schools because the public school I was currently attending refused to help me. She continues to explain that I would not get the proper guidance unless I was behind four grade levels. As any rational person would think it was unacceptable. Over the next five years I attended two different schools still skating by, making little to no progress. Glancing back at the evaluation form it does not show the hardship and suffering that I endured trying to get an education that everyone has a right to. Reading the form, seeing my life plainly written with little to no emotion. Remembering, how I cried everyday, because I did not want to go to school. Daily kids would call me dumb and stupid because they could not understand how someone like myself existed. Ostracized by my peers I never felt so alone yet surrounded by so many people.
Before transferring to another school I never met anyone else with dyslexia. My salvation was around the corner; before I knew it I was attending a school in a different state in the middle of nowhere. Once more, I needed to update my evaluation, six more hours of my life to prove that I needed all the help I could get. This school on my evaluation form should get more credit to my success. My time there is summed up into one paragraph but the effect will last a lifetime. The three years I attended this school was difficult but absolutely necessary.
Imagine yourself at twelve years of age but you only have the capacity of reading at a third grade reading level. I was so far behind it did not seem possible to catch up to where I was supposed to be. Spelling was broken down into phonics in my first year. I was encouraged to read and test my comprehension daily. Math was the only other class that wasn’t reading. Later I was introduced to science and writing. In my last year I took a history class and proceeded to complete high school level classes, as I was technically a freshmen. After attending this school I gained six grade levels within three years, ready to transfer once more as a sophomore entering into officially as high school student.
Once again turning the page, unable to resist the temptation of reading just a little more. Despite the paper feeling light to the touch the information generates the feeling of a lead weight. The popcorn of acronyms begins to intensify as the biographical section comes to an end. Test results are the next section of the evolution. The psychologist also examines my personality in detailed written notes. The movie of “Stranger Than Fiction” comes to mind as a “big brother” feeling psychoanalyzed.
High school was no different as I was still surrounded by my fellow peers all in a similar boat trying to survive. Three years pass once more, sitting in a small room with a different psychologist recounting my life. Explaining my story, completing puzzles hopefully for the last time. Graduation is around the corner, I feel different. Six years ago I was at the bottom of my class. Now, I am at the top of my class, graduating with high honors, straight-A student accepted into college. I’m on top of the world. It’s amazing what can happen in in six years.
Flipping to the next page, the lead weight transitions into a dumbbell. Dancing numbers mimicking the illuminating refraction of the glass of water. The numbers seem random at first glance, as there seems to be no pattern to correlate it. The acronym popcorn begins to explode with every other word with no end insight. Words begin to merge and brake down. The written text transitions into gibberish. I recognize my name in a sea of unrecognizable babble. A pain of needle ****** start to add pressure onto my chest.
The dancing numbers suddenly vibrate as the insanity of the acronym start to multiply. The splattered numbers represent what is inside my mind. A roadmap filled with blockade and detours constantly shifting in my head. Breathing becomes difficult as it feels someone has placed a cinder block on my chest. The acronyms start to plateau nearing the end. The text becomes legible once more.
Jolting up, I close my eyes and rest my hand against my forehead. Looking up at the window at the peaceful beautiful day. My brain starts to hurt and becomes numb. Mentally taking a step back from the stack of paper I push it across the table unable to finish. My brain is about to explode with the new information that I am still processing. My name is attached to this document as its littered throughout the evaluation. My academic life is detailed out for anyone to read at my school. Realizing this document defines me as a person. Ball and chain strapped to my ankle forever defining my intelligence.
I am incapable of escaping this documentation process to only be confirmed as someone with average intellect. The education system only documents ones ability on English and mathematical skills as deems more important in our growing society. The problem is people like myself rely on other forms of intelligence to compensate. Forever in our back pocket our evaluations sit there until it become irrelevant. After pondering this notion the bell rang and it was time to leave.
The evaluation form that I hold today was completed when I was eighteen years old, still ringing true, pointing out my flaws, and exposing my weaknesses to anyone willing to read. After all of this time, I often wonder do these thirteen pages still define my intelligence? Having risen above my challenges and surpassing anyone’s expectations, who holds the key to the ball chained to my ankle? It is debilitating having a physical reminder of my limitations after I have accomplished so much. Struggling constantly, as I continue to fight battles even into adulthood. Graduating from college is the greatest accomplishment thus far. Imagining my next graduation is next year is unbelievable. No one knows where your life will take you but one day my evaluation form will wither away into oblivion as I stride everyday to not let it define me.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 4:29 PM UTC
Oh merry townsfolk of mirth and glee!
You have crossed the bridge beyond the sea
To a land where no one knows your name
Contesting to bring your town some fame
Giving evaluations & tickling some nerves
Finally waiting 'til the best judgement serves
Win or lose? Reflect your journey and you will see
No matter the situation, a winner thou shall be
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
Oh I often wonder,
I always want to prove
That there is something behind your kindness
Yes
There's something behind that move.
Is it because you are sincere- profound from the heart?
Or is it because you, yourself is a major key braggart.
Is it because you want to prove something, the simplest thing ; that you can't say no
Or you're just in need of a good name
If it's not genuine it's not an inch of fame
Kindness varies in many different forms
Yes there's quite much
They're only kind to give you their eyes,
Their peering grudge to touch
Music, dance, poetry,
Writing freelance,
Are the only thing some people give, their hands are tightly closed,
Words and movements are the only thing that grows..
They'll give you their sense of humor,
To you they'll gain your trust
But if you choose to ask for something tangible,
They'll cry, Ooh how that's too much!
One of the major trick is to give when you have too much,
You don't want to waste your treasures, you'd rather give it away than keep facing all the dust;
Many give only to exchange ;
Oh I'll give you that sneakers in exchange for that beautiful dress
You can't say that I'm not giving
Only if you knew kindness was just my guest!
Peek a boo
Don't be surprised
Yes I've noticed those unidentified marks
Yes you say, you are kind
Which are you?
Say something I won't ignore your remarks.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 8:23 PM UTC
There is a feeling of loneliness
Because you wanted it
You dreamed it and wanted to
Feel what it’d be like to lose
Everything
But you had everything
And nothing was taken
And nothing could be given
Back
Now you’re older
Dumber and uglier
And you have the tongue to ask
Where did I go wrong?
It isn’t what you didn’t do
It’s what you thought you needed
To be you
But now it’s over
And you can’t go home
Wash out your eyes little boy
You blew it all
On a selfish thought
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
Umm, Judging them?
You will get confused
They are yet, un-finished book
Know them first
You just completed
Chapter 10
I repeat
That will be your
Time waste
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC
Spoken: What is heard
The adornment, gospel truths the pious believers of your personal faith. The Heresy, the voice of those you’ve ******
Spoken: That which can not be taken back
Your frivolous certainties had no hold but now frame our reality because they are always in the peripheral only seeing what it allows you
Spoken: half truths
The victimized, the wronged, the offended just to validate unscrupulous act to those who have wronged you.
Spoken: White lies
The coddling which breeds an ignorance for the knowledge of decorum, decorations and vails to hid behind
Spoken: That which the universe asserts
That which the universe listens to, vibrations that it assimilates making it part of the whole without losing its agenda
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 12:48 PM UTC
A friend's someone you can depend on
Someone you can trust over anyone
Little do we know friends can be mysteries
Treating you worser than your enemies
And here we go again,
This is the final time that I, let you, use me, as a friend,
I ******* told you way, too many, times, my heart, is weak,
But witness all my rage and anger as it starts to leak
I should've known
Living in this world,
Its choking me, I can't breathe
Demons with halos, surrounding me,
All the **** time
Smiles in my face, knives in my back,
Now trust is what i lack
I guess its ok, what can I say?
Imma live another day
Living each day as if it were my last
Not caring about how much time has passed
Picking up the pieces I dropped on the way
Why is it that we all live to die?
Tell me why?
Am I really gonna die all alone?
In this hole... Ooh! im so cold im so cold
Living in this world,
Its choking me, I can't breathe
Demons with halos, surrounding me,
All the **** time
Smiles in my face, knives in my back,
Now trust is what i lack
I guess its ok, what can I say?
Imma live another day
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 1:44 PM UTC
I took a walk one morning
The sun still asleep covered in a blanket of clouds
Oh yes I did weep
My tears hidden deep by the thick of the fog
My mind had been racing I thought I saw god
As the figure approached not a word could be heard
The air was tense and I was in a trance
As I looked upon the creature before me
I saw something different
Something about him just seemed familiar
I realized too late that I could relate
A physical manifestation of all of my fears
It had come to greet me and all of my peers
No longer felt joy no longer felt bliss
All I could do was stand there amiss
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 10:10 AM UTC
Let's tap into someone's mind
Young you understood that life was fine if you obeyed the rules your parents/guardian had set...Your goal was to do this...until you were old enough to understand what the television shows you were watching were saying...then your goal was to become rich ,find the love of your life and travel the world unraveling secrets that don't really exist. You tell yourself your life will not be complete if you do not achieve this...because this is the definition of success ...you gain a few more years and start to experiment with other things that could fill your hollow...start of with a little puff from a cigarette...weed perhaps...alcohol... Soon enough you like the world you see through the shade of intoxication better than your reality... But the real drug is wanting people's acceptance ...change your style around a couple times, until you find the one that gets you the most compliments...your biggest desire now, is to be desired...you value your worth by the amount of ****** in your dm ,the amount of girls you can get with,or your ability to land the prettiest or most difficult, the amount of likes...your ego begins to grow and so does your hunger to feed it. You tell yourself that you do not need the validation of anyone, but that's all you crave because deep down in your heart of hearts, your biggest fear is to be forgotten .
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC